


Arashikage

by Karama9



Category: G. I. Joe (Cartoon), G. I. Joe (Marvel Comics)
Genre: AU light, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 131,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karama9/pseuds/Karama9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-imagining of part of Storm Shadow's story, in the first person. Final chapter now up. Thanks for reading and feel free to comment. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Author's Notes:**

Rated T for Teens due to Violent Content. I don't own GI Joe and I make no money from any of my stories.

This story falls into a category I like to call "AU Light". AU because it is set in an Alternate Universe to existing canon, Light because that alternate universe is reasonably similar to the official one.

Arashikage is set in a Universe mostly inspired by the old marvel GI Joe comic books. It deals almost exclusively with Storm Shadow: even Snake Eyes is strictly a secondary character. The other GI Joes barely get mentioned, if at all. The same goes for most of the members of Cobra.

However, rest assured that I didn't write a story about some guy who's not a ninja but calls himself Storm Shadow, and who is hired as a carpenter by another guy calling himself Snake Eyes, who speaks 5 different languages.

The main plot elements of this story, and the basic personality traits of most of the characters that do appear, are very close to what appeared in the Comic Books (I make no guarantee on biographical details – hey, I get to make SOME stuff up). Basically, this is a simplified and shortened retelling of several plot lines involving Storm Shadow.

I started out trying to include every plotline I could find, but even my plot summary was turning into a ninja soap opera – I eventually opted to keep things relatively short.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It's all I can do when I see my uncles to keep on my feet. They are not supposed to meet me here, my father is. More importantly, they're not supposed to both be wearing mourning robes. I feel sick with worry, yet I don't dare make another step towards them. I'm too afraid that they'll confirm what I have already guessed, what I've first sensed months ago.

I've spent these months telling myself I was being silly and trying to believe there was nothing to my suspicions. It didn't work, to be honest: what I'm seeing now is exactly what I expected to, but I was so hoping to be wrong that the shock is just as great as if I were caught by surprise. And I still can't accept it: I know I'm being stupid, but I can't make myself join my uncles and let them officially inform me that my father died months earlier.

One of my uncles, the one known to the clan as the Soft Master, spots me and walks to me. He is not smiling today, and it makes him look like another person. My other uncle, the Hard Master, is scowling even worse than usual.

I feel like running away before my uncle can reach me. I don't want to hear what he has to say. I stay where I am, of course, and he puts his hand on my arm. He doesn't say anything, nor does he need to.

"Who?" I ask, almost snarling.

My other uncle has joined us and he answers.

"You need not concern yourself with that," he says. "I already took care of this matter."

I almost yell at him that he had no right to do that and that I want to know anyway, but it would be ridiculous: as my father's eldest brother, he had every right to seek vengeance, even though the polite thing to do would have been to share it with me, the victim's son.

He hands me a package and instructs me to go change. I nod again and head for the nearest restrooms. I come out in mourning robes identical to theirs.

* * *

The home of the Arashikage clan is hours away from the airport. The Hard Master puts the time to good use by informing me of the situation.

He skims over my father's death, only telling me his brother died in his presence and that all necessary vengeance had taken place immediately.

"Your father's duties need to be filled," he says, getting into the heart of what really concerns him.

I feel as though metal grips have just closed around me. My father was the clan's main wage earner. Wage earners don't teach: instead, their services are sold to clients in order to raise the money necessary to keep the clan going. It's a much more thrilling and active life than the one led by the teachers, and truth be told, my father loved it.

In exchange for the excitement, however, a ninja who chooses this path spends most of his time on missions and consequently, has to neglect both his training and his relationship with the rest of the clan. My father and I were still close, but he didn't even know the name of most of the clan members who were not directly related to him.

Finally, a ninja who becomes a wage earner sells not only his services but his loyalties, constantly putting himself in the service of whoever pays for the privilege. I was able to place myself under the orders of my commanding officers in the army, but I was the one who chose to serve them, not the other way around.

As much as I loved my father and as much as he loved this life, it has always repulsed me. Ever since I was old enough to know the difference, I have trained to be a teacher and there is nobody in the clan who doesn't know that I never intended to follow in my father's footsteps.

I fight back the panic I feel. I'm sure my uncle only means for me to help him find a replacement for my father, being too busy himself to search for one. He wouldn't throw my freedom away on the same day I found out my father has died.

"We cannot possibly put the clan's financial safety at the mercy of a non-family member's fancy," my uncle continues. The metal grips I feel around me tighten and my breathing becomes short.

The Soft Master, next to me, is not looking at us. He is staring out the window closest to him, as if to make sure the driver is going the right way. Obviously, this is to be between the Hard Master and myself.

"Uncle," I start.

The Hard Master cuts me off.

"You will refer to me by my proper name."

The grip tightens a bit more still. By making me use his proper name, my uncle is warning me that the fact we are related will not help me, and that right now, I am just another member of the clan, under his authority. I swallow with difficulty.

"Hard Master," I start again.

But I don't know what else to say. I could have begged my uncle not to make me do this, but I can't ask the Hard Master for such a favour.

The Hard Master waits a moment to see if I'll say anything else. His face relaxes a little bit when I don't.

"YOU will replace your father," he says. It sounds more like a sentence than an order, which is appropriate.

I close my eyes and hang my head low. I feel like I'm about to burst into tears, and the fact that I don't know what I'm more upset about - my father's death or the consequences for me - only makes me feel even worse by adding guilt to my misery.

The Hard Master continues, ignoring my reaction.

"By replacing your father, you gain position in the clan and become second only to myself and the Soft Master. Your name, from now on, will be 'Young Master'. Now about that friend of yours you invited."

"I thought I would be teaching him when I made that invitation." My voice is cracking and I'm getting very worried that I'm going to fall apart before I can go hide in my private rooms.

The Soft Master says something for the first time since I arrived.

"Your father died, Young Master. There would be no shame in crying."

I disagree with that assessment. I shake my head.

"Your friend will be welcomed into the clan should he act on your invitation. With your new position, you are perfectly entitled to grant admissions to new students. I will teach him myself," the Hard Master says.

"Thank you," I say.

The Hard Master nods and says nothing more. The conversation is over and he managed to make it end with me in his debt. I'm not sure anymore that I did Chatterbox a favour by inviting him here.

I spend the rest of the trip concentrating on keeping hold of my emotions. Between the pain of my father's death, the news that I will never get to teach and the anger and resentment I feel towards the Hard Master, it's no easy task.

* * *

I don't sleep that night. Instead, I take out my emotions on training dummies.

I go find the Soft Master at dawn, trying to avoid the Hard Master because I don't want my anger to rise back up.

He's in the rock garden, doing simple balancing exercises. I don't feel like raking the sand so I skip from one rock to the next until I'm facing him. I wait until he acknowledges me. The Hard Master would probably have gone through his whole routine before irritably asking me what I wanted, but the Soft Master cuts his routine short and smiles at me.

"Your eyes are red. Did you finally cry?" he asks.

I sigh and give a quick, small nod – I don't want to lie to him, but I'd rather nobody else happen to see my answer.

"Good. Your father deserves better than dry eyes from his only son upon his death."

I cough and quickly change the subject.

"Do you agree with the Hard Master making me a wage earner against my will?" I ask. I know the answer doesn't matter: the Hard Master can say his brother has the same rank he does until his throat is sore, the fact of the matter is that the Soft Master never goes against his brother's wishes, making the Hard Master the one true head of the clan.

The Soft Master sighs and sits on his rock. He motions me to do the same.

"I do," he says once I'm sitting down. "I sympathize with your wishes to be a teacher but you are our only choice. My brother says he doesn't want to rely on non-family members because he is too embarrassed to admit that's not even an option: our agents would leave if we asked for more than 10% of their wages, and there are only a few left. As for students, only one of our five is advanced enough to make any kind of salaries. We have been accumulating debt since your father died, and we need to start paying it off."

"I don't understand. There were almost 100 people here when I left. That was only two years ago."

"The government has been cracking down on ninja clans, closing down schools, throwing people in jail... most ninja students, all over the country, have given up their studies or been pulled out by their parents for fear that their school would be next and that they would all be arrested, parents included. Times are difficult."

"I can accept not teaching until our finances are back on track," I say.

It's a lie. I can't accept it. I can't accept having to sell my services to earn money for the clan. I only say it to sound reasonable and increase my chances that my incoming request will be accepted.

The Soft Master frowns briefly.

"There is no need to lie to me. Nobody will blame you for being bitter about it as long as you still perform your duties," he says.

I cast my eyes down. My hope that my request will be granted now seems very foolish, but I cannot give up on it.

"I will do my best," I promise, "but..."

The Soft Master cocks his head, waiting for me to continue. I'm not sure how to put what I want to say into words. I finally opt for the direct approach.

"I want to have some time to train," I say.

The Soft Master thinks about it for a while.

"We cannot afford to limit your workload, but whenever you have holes in your schedule, either the Hard Master or I will make ourselves available to help you catch up on your training. I wouldn't expect that to happen too often, however. Ninjas for hire are just as difficult to find for our clients as for us to keep around."

I nod my understanding, although I feel more like screaming. My uncle just basically told me that I can only train in my free time and that I'm not likely to ever have any free time. I can imagine that every one of our students will slowly be getting better than me, and I already resent them for it.

* * *

I'm given three full days to mourn my father. On the night of the third day, I start my new life by playing bodyguard to a lower house member who is about to cast an unpopular vote. Even though I would have gladly accepted to protect anybody from the slime that tries to kill him in the following six days, I still hate having been hired to do it. I must do a good job of hiding it, however, because once the contract is over, the lower house member offers me a permanent position.

I somehow manage to look honoured and politely refuse the offer.

* * *

It's early morning when I get back to the clan, and I report straight to the Hard Master's office. He invites me to sit and for one second, it looks like he might smile. He catches himself, however, and asks me whether I slept while guarding my client.

The question is insulting. It doesn't matter how lightly you sleep, you can't expect to be able to react quickly enough upon waking up to stop a bullet even if you hear the gun going off.

"Of course not," I reply.

"I didn't think you had," he says, uncharacteristically softly. "You can rest for the rest of the day, but I'm afraid you have a client tonight."

I bow and hold back a sigh. I'm not actually feeling that tired right at the moment - I've been feeling alternatively fine and exhausted for the past 4 days and nights - and I was considering taking the Soft Master up on his offer of training time before turning in for a nap, but if I have to start a new contract tonight, I definitely need to get as much sleep as I can.

"Before you go rest, however, I would like you to join the Soft Master and me in welcoming a new student," he says. This time, I definitely see a smile trying to shine through. I assume he's just happy to have a sixth student.

"Your friend arrived a mere few minutes ago. I knew you were on your way, so I kept him waiting," my uncle finishes.

My eyes widen and my uncle definitely smiles. As angry as I've been with him since my return, I can't help but to return the smile. He gestures me to follow him and we make our way to the parlour.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

I just found out there's a GI Joe Transformers crossover where Hawk calls Snake Eyes chatterbox because until he becomes mute, he's very chatty. Just to clear up any possible confusion, I based my version of Snake Eyes on his comic book persona, and every flashback I've seen leads me to believe he was the quiet type even before he became mute.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Chatterbox is not there yet when we arrive, but the Soft Master is already sitting on one of the mats. The Hard Master sits next to him, on the middle mat, and I sit on his other side. My heart is actually pounding in anticipation. It may be because my life has taken such a bad turn since the last time I saw him, but even though we have been separated less than a fortnight, I can't wait to see him again: even before he is officially admitted into the clan, I already find myself thinking of him as my brother.

Protocol dictates my face remain emotionless while greeting new students, and since this little ceremony is probably the closest I'll ever get to being a teacher, I intend to do it properly.

That is the only reason I don't react to his expression when he comes in and sits in front of us. My face remains an unperturbed mask - or at least I hope it does - but I'm suddenly very worried for him.

He looks... empty. Even after we lost half our unit, he didn't look like this. His eyes go from me to the Hard Master, to the Soft Master, back to me briefly before settling on the Hard Master. Although he's looking at us, he doesn't seem to actually care at all that we are there.

The Hard Master asks him for his name and glances at me. I am to be interpreter.

"Please state your name," I say, pretending not to know.

He gives his name – I'm so used to thinking of him as Chatterbox that it's almost odd to hear his real name. Even the other members of our unit hardly ever used it.

The Hard Master introduces us by our titles and asks the potential new student why he is here.

I translate our titles and the question.

"To train as a ninja," he replies. He talks so little at the best of times - thus my nickname for him - that I almost expected him to just roll his eyes and not bother to point out the obvious. Obviously, he realized this would not have been a good idea.

I faithfully translate his answer to my uncle. Normally, he would deny that the clan has anything to do with ninjistu, to test the new student's certainty and resolve. He doesn't bother this time, and I'm grateful for it.

"Why do you want to go through such training?" he asks instead. "It will not be an easy life, and you will be cut off from everyone you know, even your closest family, for years."

My own family IS the clan, so I had never realized before today the implications of this customary question, but it suddenly strikes me: Chatterbox, who couldn't wait to be reunited with his family, left them again so soon? Why?

I faithfully translate the question, wishing I could make it more personal but knowing that I need to follow the script.

"I have no family," Chatterbox says.

I try my best to remain expressionless, but I can't say whether I fully succeeded or not. I swallow and translate his answer in as normal a voice as I can manage.

"No family?" my uncle asks me.

I nod. "That's what he said."

The Hard Master thinks for a while, and takes a good long look at me. I think he's trying to decide whether to use this as a test for me.

Students come to clans like ours for all kinds of reasons, and more than a few do so following a personal loss: they do it in an effort to start over and to forget their pain, but they never last. When they start healing from their loss, they lose the necessary motivation to endure the difficult training we put them through.

If Chatterbox came here because he's lost his family, there is a reasonable chance that he will lose interest in a few months. If he does, he will become a liability to the clan: some clans kill drop-out students to protect their secrets, but the Arashikage doesn't believe in this practice. Instead, students we don't think will last are on probation for a number of months. While on probation, they are treated as guests, not privy to any of our secrets: they are not even allowed in the main part of the compound and are restricted to the public areas.

We still get students who decide to leave after their probation ended or who were never on probation. What we do to them is not exactly tender - we manipulate their memory - but they live and our secrets are safe.

Since I invited this particular student, I should get to officially recommend that he be accepted, and therefore, I should be the one requesting a probation period. Judging by how he is looking at me, it seems like the Hard Master is not sure I can be trusted to do this. He finally nods, indicating that I can talk.

It's among the hardest things I've ever had to do. Whether he will realize it or not, I'm about to deny my friend the trust of the clan and to delay his real training. I feel like I'm betraying him, but my first duty is to the clan.

I quickly translate the usual probation speech in my head before reciting it.

"You can stay and study with us as our guest for 3 months. You will be restricted to the same areas as the general public and your training will remain basic. If you haven't left yet, you will be brought here again in three months to decide whether you can stay or not."

My friend - I can't call him a brother yet after all - looks hurt, but he bows in acceptation and he is shown out of the room. I excuse myself and follow him out.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I..."

He cuts me off.

"I don't blame you."

He sounds angry, though. I wish he wouldn't try to be reasonable and just yell at me. How am I supposed to make amends if he won't even let me apologize?

"I know the probation is a pain," I start.

He cuts me off again.

"It doesn't matter. I just want to get started. Can we?"

"You don't want to talk?" I ask. I mean about his family.

"No."

It's just one word, but there's so much anger in it that I get angry too. My next words are said in a snarl.

"You just want to get started, then? Fine, I'll advise the Hard Master: he's your teacher."

I turn my back on him and head back for the parlour. I feel his hand on my arm and spin around irritably.

"What? Oh, you thought I'd teach you, did you? I can't blame you, that WAS the idea when I invited you. But see, my father has died too, and I inherited his responsibilities, which means I can't teach."

Even as I'm saying it, I have the feeling I'm being an insensitive jerk – not so much for the words, but for the condescending tone. I might as well have just gone for broke and pointed out that he was not the only one who had ever lost someone.

The look he gives me confirms my feeling. I expect him to yell at me, but he just shakes his head and lets go of my arm.

I roll my eyes at him and get back into the parlour. I almost bump into The Hard Master, who was about to get out of the room.

I tell him his new student is ready to start training and storm off.

I hear him tell said new student to follow three times before Chatterbox finally understands what he is being asked. The thought that they'll have to deal with not speaking the same language feels like sweet revenge for not being allowed to teach my friend myself.

I head straight for my private room, and knowing that I'm probably feeling so angry in good part because I'm tired, I give up on any thoughts of training and head straight for bed. Despite the racket everyone is doing in the dojo, I'm asleep in minutes.

* * *

My new contract is only for the night. I am to steal one of the prizes and guard it until morning, when my client's regular staff will take over.

It's not nearly as bad as it sounds. The prizes are expensive trinkets that our clan and some others have deliberately put in circulation so that a group of collectors would fight over them and constantly hire ninjas to steal them back and forth from one another. We think of the wages we earn moving them around as the rental rate for them. Even when they end up buying it from a third party (a non ninja thief), the collectors are very much aware that they are buying stolen merchandise and deserve no sympathy for losing the item again, especially since said items were carefully chosen to be utterly useless and that having them or not cannot possibly actually have an impact on the collectors' lives.

I personally believe they all know that all those prizes they keep fighting over were planted by us and that they just enjoy the game as much as we enjoy charging them to play.

I get to the residence of the collector currently in possession of the prize my client wants me to fetch him and easily find my way to the item (it happens to be a vase). It is guarded by another ninja, wearing the crest of the Kamura clan. I take my sword out; that clan is not friendly.

She hears me and turns towards me, her own weapon out.

"Arashikage..." she muses upon seeing me.

I expect insults or mockeries to come next. I almost fall right off my feet when she drops her weapon, takes off her mask and smiles.

"Will you marry me?" she asks.

I raise my sword in a defensive position, figuring the only reason she could have to do something like that would be to take advantage of my surprise to attack, but she just stands there, looking amused at my reaction. I don't understand what she's trying to do, so I try to keep her talking.

"If you'll swear service to my clan and donate all your wages, I'll be happy to," I reply. I wouldn't mind if she actually accepted. She could easily be kept in the public part of the compound and disowned should she start misbehaving. In the meantime, if she actually did my job for a while, I'd be free to train and teach.

"How romantic!" she laughs. "But I was thinking of doing this the other way around. I wouldn't join your clan, you would join mine."

"What makes you think there's any chance at all that I would do that?"

"Everyone knows you didn't want your father's job. If your family won't let you choose your own path, what loyalty do you owe them? We're offering you a position as a teacher, and marrying into the clan would spare you from being branded a traitor to your blood relatives."

My head is spinning. How does everyone know I didn't want to be a wage-earner? Is the Kamura clan seriously trying to lure me away from my own, or is she just playing with me? If she's serious, why? Why would another clan bother with me?

"I will never abandon my family," I say. "Now, step away from the vase or fight."

Her heartbeat accelerates again and her breathing quickens. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she's afraid of me.

"My offer is serious," she insists. Her voice is shaking, just a bit, and although I have no idea why she would be afraid of a ninja who hasn't seriously trained in two years, there is no denying that she is.

"My refusal is serious. Step away or fight."

"You really are the lapdog your reputation makes you out to be," she sneers. "I'd love to see if the rest of what they say about you is accurate as well, but I have better things to do than risk getting injured over a useless trinket."

She walks away from the vase and right out of the room. I have already moved away from the door, so she doesn't have to get anywhere near me to do this, but she still keeps her eyes on me.

I stare at her until she's out of my sight then listen for her footsteps. I only move when they fade into the city's general noise, and even then, I don't let my guard down. I expect her to come crashing through a window and attack me, but once again, my expectations are not realized. I remain undisturbed as I examine the room for any active security system (there is a motion sensor, but it is not activated) and the vase (as well as the table it is resting on) for any kind of trigger. I find nothing, so I take the vase and leave, amazed at how easy this has been.

I spend the rest of the night sitting by the vase in my client's house, wondering just what all this was about. The Kamura clan is a rival of the Arashikage, and relationships have always been rocky at best. An alliance between the two is just about unthinkable.

And yet, she tried to draw me to the Kamura clan. That is astounding enough, but what really tickles my curiosity is that she has heard of me, and that based on what she has heard, she did not want to fight me for fear of getting injured.

I've only been back for a week and a half: why would anyone have heard about me? And worst, why would anyone have heard anything that would cause them to think of me as a dangerous opponent? I see myself as borderline incompetent, not having trained for over two years. Why does the Kamura clan have a different opinion?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I report to the Hard Master in the morning, and he instructs me to rest for the morning because I am starting another week-long contract in the afternoon.

"Something strange happened tonight," I tell him after he has given me those instructions. I proceed to tell him about the Kamura girl.

"Well, what did you expect after your battle last week?" he asks me. "You took out 20 armed men by yourself without breaking a sweat, and after having been up for three days and three nights. Of course you've gained a reputation."

"Those men were hopeless!" I protest. "It was an easy fight!"

"Easy for you. Thus your reputation."

"Hard Master," I say, trying hard not to sound like I'm explaining something insanely simple even though that's exactly what I'm doing, "if it was easy for me, it would have been for anyone. I haven't seriously trained since I left for the war."

"Ah. Is that where your confusion is from? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised... you're the same child who amazed the Seeing Master by being oblivious to the fact he could hear about 20 times better than the average person."

I frown, puzzled. The Seeing Master was my main sensei when I started my real training. When he first started training me, he let me know most people could not hear as well as I do, and was surprised I hadn't realized it before. What the connection is between that and the fact I'm out of shape, I don't know.

"Do you think we would send you on potentially dangerous missions if we didn't know you were up to it?" my uncle asks. "The fact you haven't trained in a couple of years has not affected you at all, just like we knew it wouldn't."

I try to look politely puzzled. I fail miserably.

"You think that I've either lost my mind or that I'm playing with you," the Hard Master says.

He's absolutely right, but thankfully, he sounds amused instead of angry.

"I don't understand what you're saying," I say.

It sounds a lot better than what I'm thinking, my thoughts at the moment being mostly centered on questioning his sanity.

"You realize you are the product of generations of selective breeding, do you not?"

It's a rude way to put it, but yes, I know what he is talking about. The Arashikage select parents-to-be based on desirable genetic traits. I nod.

"You inherited your fantastic hearing from both your mother and father, although yours is even better than either of theirs. You also inherited a more exclusive quality… as far as I know, it is unique to the Arashikage bloodline. Even within that bloodline, it only appears in a few individuals. Your father, for instance, did not have it."

I wish he'd stop being cryptic. He seems to be waiting for me to react.

"What quality?" I ask.

He actually chuckles. This conversation is now officially creepy.

"After your first session with him, the Seeing Master came to see me to thank me for this student," he says. "I had expected as much: it would have been quite rude of him not to do so. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when he told me WHY he thought he would enjoy teaching you. Do you remember the first exercise he asked of you?"

This conversation, by its weirdness as much as anything else, is seriously testing my patience. I really wish my uncle would get to the point and tell me why in the world he believes I don't need to train to maintain my skill level, or what's left of it.

"He asked me to perform the early training kata number 1," I answer. I'm burning to ask him how a training session that occurred ten years ago has anything to do with my current situation, but I don't.

"And you did. For the first time, at that point, in five years. Young Master, the reason you were deemed a prodigy all your life is not that you are a quick learner; neither is it because you are especially strong, or fast, or agile. You're not any of those things."

I can't help but frown. Only my uncle can make calling me a prodigy an insult.

"The reason you have progressed so fast," he continues, ignoring my frown, "is also why you don't need to keep training to maintain your level. You never forget any skill. You remember, effortlessly, everything you memorize, and more importantly, so does your body."

The Hard Master pauses, looking at me, apparently trying to make sure I follow. I'm frowning, which may be what prompts him to try another explanation.

"You often hear people say that you never forget how to ride a bike. To you, EVERYTHING is like riding a bike. When he asked you to perform the first kata you had ever learned, the Seeing Master expected to have to describe it to you. Instead, you just went right ahead and executed it. The Seeing Master also noticed, during the session, that you hardly lost your balance at all when performing your old katas. You fell much more often between them than during them."

I don't know what to say. Unlike what was the case for my hearing, I do know I have a much better than average memory. But to say that my body remembers, too... I don't really believe it. It seems to me that my uncle has found a way to alleviate his guilt for sending me on, as he puts it, potentially dangerous missions.

"You don't believe me," he says. He is frowning, back to his own self.

I swallow nervously. I can't call him a liar, and I certainly can't tell him he is delusional, either.

He sighs.

"That won't do," he says. "You cannot keep on thinking we are condemning you to gradually regress and lose all your skills because you don't have time to train. Don't you realize we would not do that to you? You are the future of the clan."

"I understand our financial situation," I say. "I know our options are limited."

He sighs again.

"Obviously, I need to prove to you that your current lack of training is not affecting your skills. You think you're not competent? You think any other ninja out there could take you out?"

"Maybe not just any of them," I say, thinking of the cowardly Kamura girl.

"Most of them, then?"

I nod.

My uncle snorts angrily.

"You will participate in this year's tournament," he says.

My eyes widen. The tournament is a competition between most of the ninja clans in the country: selected fighters from the different clans fight each other in non-lethal matches, and the winner of each match advances to the next round until a champion is found. The Champion receives a monetary prize, but more importantly, it is a great honour for his or her clan. Being eliminated in the first round, on the other hand, is extremely embarrassing. If my uncle wants me to participate, he is bound to give me some training time.

"How much training will you let me do?" I ask, my voice trembling in anticipation.

"None," my uncle answers. "You will not train at all, and when you make it to the final round, you will hopefully realize that not training is not affecting your skills."

I swallow. This is insane. If I don't train, I will be eliminated in the first round and the clan will be a laughing stock: the main wage earner of the once-great Arashikage clan, not to mention the future leader, eliminated in the first round. I can't let him do that.

"Hard Master..." I start.

"This is not open to discussion," he cuts me off. "I'm well aware that you think you will be defeated in your first match: that's precisely why I'm entering you and why I will not let you train ahead. You need to realize you are wrong. You need to realize you are just as good now as when you left for the war. Now go rest."

He's being an idiot. He's going to regret this and so will the rest of the clan. But there's nothing I can do about it: he is my superior, I have to obey him. I bow and leave for my room.

I hear Chatterbox walking towards me, probably on his way to meet his teacher in his office. I hurry my steps, hoping he will be more opened to me than yesterday. He stops when he sees me but says nothing.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I tell him. I mean both for the probation and my anger, but I'm too embarrassed to elaborate. "And for your family... what happened?"

"Car accident," he sighs. "All three of them..."

He looks like he's about to cry. I have no idea what to say, and I would understand if he never did forgive me for my behaviour yesterday.

"Excuse me," he says, walking past me towards my uncle's office. He turns his head back. "I don't want to be late on my second day," he adds with a ghost of a smile before trotting off.

It's a sorry excuse for a joke and a smile, but it's still a huge relief: he wouldn't have bothered with it if I wasn't forgiven.

* * *

_\- Seven months later -_

"Came to cheer me on, brother? You're wasting your time."

I just finished changing into the clan's uniform to find Chatterbox standing in the locker room, looking nervous.

My first match in the tournament is in two minutes. I'm expecting to lose, and my mood is rotten. I hate that I'm going to embarrass the clan, and I'm furious at the Hard Master because it's all his fault.

"Afraid not. I'm in the tournament too," he says. His tone is no more cheerful than mine, understandably.

I curse. Is the Hard Master TRYING to make us a laughing stock? Chatterbox only started his real training four months ago: he can't be ready for this.

"Did he tell you he expects you to lose?" I ask.

"He expects me to make it to the second round."

"Figures, seeing he actually thinks I'm going to make it to the final." I sigh. "Well, good luck, brother."

I press his shoulder before I leave the changing room for the arena. I expected him to stay behind and change, but he follows me.

"When is your match?" I ask him.

"Half an hour. I'll change after yours."

I nod. I don't mind if he sees me lose, he'd hear about it anyway. Besides, if there is only one ninja in Japan who won't be mocking me after today, it'll be him.

I enter the arena. My opponent, a member of the Raikou clan, is already there, waiting. He looks me up and down and smirks.

"So you're the Arashikage slave-boy, are you?" he sniggers. "You don't look that impressive."

I resist snarling at him. I'd love to beat him up for calling me a slave, and I know painfully well that it's just not going to happen: quite the opposite.

The referee gives the signal and we start.

We stop less than a minute later: he's on the floor, clutching at the arm I just broke. I wasn't trying to injure him, the hit was only meant to force him to block high so that I could strike at his legs and bring him down. His block came too late.

The referee asks him if he wants to continue. He shakes his head and my eyes widen. He's giving up?

The referee points at me and shouts "Winner, Arashikage!". I'm so relieved, so disbelieving, that it's all I can do not to fall to the floor. I feel a hand clapping me on the back. I turn, expecting my brother – there's so much noise that I can't hear a thing - but he's a few steps back, with the Soft Master. They're both beaming at me. The Hard Master is the one who just clapped my back; he's not smiling.

"Try not to injure anyone else," he says. "We don't want to alienate the other clans."

Chatterbox's match lasts longer than mine, and leaves me even more disbelieving. If I didn't know he had only been training for four months, I would have believed him to be a student of several years: he's genuinely good.

He eventually defeats his opponent with a hold that immobilizes her for the required thirty seconds. The Hard Master congratulates him and my smile fades: all I got for winning was an admonition to be more gentle with my opponent. The Soft Master notices my reaction and sniggers.

"Would you congratulate an eagle for flying?" he asks me.

I snort, cheered up if a bit embarrassed by the compliment. He's right, of course. Why would the Hard Master bother to congratulate me for winning my first match when he genuinely believes I'm going to make it to the final round? For the first time since he told me he was entering me in this tournament, I'm flattered by his confidence. This nice feeling lasts for about a minute before reality sets back in: my uncle's confidence is grossly misguided, and a lucky win in the first round is all that saved me from completely humiliating our clan. I suddenly realize that my brother's win means that I must win my second match as well. The clan will be the subject of almost as much ridicule if I don't do better than our newest student than if I had lost my first match.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I thought you might be wondering why it looks like I'm practically giving Storm Shadow super powers. Well! The first thing I must say is that I'm really not.

His hearing is fantastic, but that's consistent with the comic books. Speaking in tongues to avoid spoilers, in the comic book, he can pinpoint the location of small animals from a fair distance, through solid and bulky obstacles and he is eventually assumed to have been able to do the same with a person, that he would also have identified by sound only, from an even greater distance.

As for the memory thing, that is indeed my invention, but all that's done for him is bring him to where he is now, and I need it for several plot reasons – including as an explanation of why his uncles feel comfortable sending the clan's heir on dangerous missions and not arranging for him to have time to train. As for why he needs to be as good as that has allowed him to become and to remain, let's just say that nobody would have any reason to go through major amounts of trouble to secure his services were he just an ordinary ninja.

The other thing you may be wondering about is this Seeing Master character. I started the story using the Blind Master, as readers of the comic books may have guessed, but he really did not fit what I needed him for, so rather than risk antagonizing his potential fans, I played it honest and created a new character rather than force an existing one into an ill-fitting mold.

As for the name, this character can use his other senses so well that although he is blind (which is the reason I was originally trying to use the Blind Master), he can "see" just as well or better than most people. He is just a minor character, in case you're wondering. :)

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I spend the rest of the day fooling around with Chatterbox. I'm trying to sneak us away to train, even if just by sparring with my brother, but my uncles are keeping a close watch and one of them appears out of nowhere each time I'm about to do something that could be construed as exercise.

As much as I wish I could get a bit of training in before my next match tomorrow, this is the best day I've had since coming back from the war.

* * *

The second round is the following day. This time around, Chatterbox's match is before mine. He's facing another member of the Raiku clan, and the Hard Master is glaring daggers at me because he expects my brother will be the one to pay for my injuring my opponent yesterday.

I hope he's wrong, but judging by the expression of the Raiku man who just entered the ring, he's right.

The match starts and within ten seconds, it's clear the Raiku ninja is not trying to hurt my brother, he's trying to kill him. I glance at the Hard Master nervously, wondering why he hasn't ended this already. He appears to read my mind.

"I want to see how long he'll last," he says.

I can't help thinking his real goal is to scare me - as punishment for my carelessness yesterday.

After about a minute of desperately blocking and evading, my brother is slowing down. His opponent takes advantage of it and targets his neck.

My uncle and I are both in the ring at the same time, holding the Raiku, preventing him from hitting our newest student. This disqualifies my brother instantly, but the Raiku ninja is forced to stop fighting.

* * *

My own match is not nearly as memorable, but by the end of the second round, I'm starting to wonder whether my uncle really is delusional about me. Up to date, this tournament is disappointingly easy.

* * *

"Well, Young Master," the Hard Master asks me. "Have I proven my point yet?"

I've just won my semi-final match, and I'm fighting in the final in an hour.

"Is this a trick?" I ask him. The whole thing feels completely surreal.

"How in the world would I have managed a trick like that?" he asks me.

"I didn't even break a sweat until my fourth match!"

My uncle nods knowingly.

"You are aware that at the time you left for the war, you were among the best, are you not?"

"That was nearly three years ago, and I…"

"…haven't trained since," the Hard Master interrupts me, rolling his eyes. "And yet here you are, still among the bests."

"Unless this 'tournament' is filled with mediocre ninjas."

"Even if there were any chance that I could pull off something like this, what motivation could I possibly have? Stop insulting me and use your head."

"But I never train!" I cry out.

"You don't need to train to stay at your current level! Come. Did you win the last three matches because your opponents were mediocre?"

I frown and turn my back on him. He's right, as usual – it's a very irritating habit of his to be right against reason. We watched my last three opponents fight their previous adversaries and it was quite obvious from these matches that they were not mediocre at all.

"Well? Do you still believe that not having the benefit of regular training is making you regress? Do you still believe you are, how do you keep putting it, borderline incompetent?"

I don't answer right away. It's not that I don't know what to answer, but I hate having to give that answer: it will basically give my uncle license to keep my work schedule just as packed as it is now.

"Well?" he insists.

"No and no," I hiss, "but if I could train, I'd be getting even better."

"Then win. The prize money won't hurt our financial situation: with it, we might be able to start lightening your schedule within the next year."

Call me easy to please, but that's more motivation than I need.

* * *

The other finalist is obviously motivated as well. He's already broken my nose, and I only just managed to escape his last hold with 4 seconds to spare. He's on top of me again before I even have a chance to turn around to face him.

Lucky for me, he was in such a hurry to pin me down again that this new hold is clumsy. I easily reverse it, and from that point on, I have control of the match.

He finally surrenders ten minutes later, narrowly avoiding my starting to break his limbs out of sheer irritation and impatience at his stubbornness. My nose is hurting too much for me to smile when I'm declared the winner.

* * *

The tournament's most immediate effect is to rob me of the sense I'm entitled to complain about my lot. Since I still feel like complaining, this is hardly something I'm happy about.

It doesn't take long for other consequences of my victory to make themselves obvious. I can't seem to meet another ninja without getting offers to join their clan. I've had such offers before, ranging from marriage proposals to monetary offers, but it only used to happen once a month or so. Now, it's every day.

One ninja from the Kamura clan even suggested killing my uncles. I lost my head and so did he – literally in his case. As a result, our two clans are at war again, which hasn't stopped them from trying to recruit me.

It takes a year for the offers to finally start drying up. They gradually get replaced by jeers and insults intended to make me feel like I'm being an idiot for not betraying my family. I'd rather be an idiot than a traitor, so it doesn't bother me.

What does bother me is that my uncle has not yet been able to reduce my workload. It's due to circumstances beyond his control – an earthquake damaged part of the compound and we had to make repairs, which cost money – but not having someone to blame only makes it more infuriating.

My brother, for his part, is doing wonderful. In fact, he's the talk of the clan. I can't spend five minutes in the compound without overhearing awed comments on how good he is. There are bets going around on whether he'd win a fight against me. I'd laugh if I hadn't seen him train.

Saying that he's good is a gross understatement: he's kept on progressing just as unnaturally fast as during his first four months. For one thing, his japanese is now flawless, where he couldn't understand a single word of it when he first got here. This would be impressive enough, but it's actually the least of his accomplishments. What really has the clan impressed is that in less than two years, he has reached a level of skill beyond what most students hope to ever accomplish.

In itself, it wouldn't bother me, but I've caught my uncles glancing at me, looking like they wonder how long those who think he has surpassed me will be wrong. It's understandable: I'm the heir of the clan, I should be the best. Although our clan doesn't put stock in our students' place of birth, many do; having a foreign student best the heir of the clan would be extremely embarrassing.

My uncles need not worry: I'm not going to let that happen. Chatterbox being so good is just the motivation I needed to stop making excuses for myself and get back to seriously training: as tight as my schedule is, I could still do with a bit less sleep. The honour of the clan put aside, I have to admit that I'm just plain sick of not making any progress: I'm entitled to bettering myself as much as anyone else.

I start my training the very night I make that resolution. I first go through the last few katas I learned before leaving, over three years ago. If I had still needed confirmation of what my uncle told me last year about never forgetting anything, this 'training' would have done the trick: I get all the exercises I attempt right on the first try.

Since I can't work on improving my technique, not without someone to show me some new exercises or moves, I change tactic and do some strength training. By the time I finally go to bed, I'm aching everywhere but grinning like a maniac: I feel like I've broken free of my chains, like I can fly again.

* * *

I wait patiently by the entrance while the Hard Master and my brother finish their lesson. Chatterbox is learning the last kata I learned myself. I feel my jaws clench and force myself to relax.

This is ridiculous. He's my friend, my brother, and I'm the one who invited him here. Why should his success bother me?

The lesson finally ends and the Hard Master dismisses his student, who bows, waves at me and leaves. I wave back mechanically, angry at him even though I feel stupid and petty for it.

"You've been training," my uncle starts as soon as Chatterbox's steps start fading away.

It suddenly occurs to me that I hardly ever see the Soft Master anymore: my contacts with my family have been reduced to almost nothing but official business, and the Hard Master takes care of that. He's also the one I had to deal with after I killed the Kamura ninja who threatened them; I got off easy that time, because a death threat had been made against members of the clan, justifying my actions. I have a feeling I won't be so lucky this time.

"Yes, Hard Master," I reply. I have to reply something, and it's no good denying something he obviously already knows about.

"While you should be sleeping."

"I still sleep," I say, and wince. Even to my own ears, I sound like a whiny child.

"Not enough," the Hard Master says, straining his voice in an effort not to yell. He sighs. "You cannot keep doing this. You can't go on missions without proper rest."

"I had to stay up for a week on the very first mission you sent me on!"

"You weren't supposed to!" he growls. "That client was supposed to have hired three ninjas. We only found out you had been by yourself once the mission was over. This is why you've never had this client again. He keeps begging for you, offering double and triple rate."

I have no idea how to respond to this bit of news. I choose to get back on subject.

"I'm still getting enough sleep. Please don't worry for me."

"No, you're not. It's obvious just from looking at you that you're exhausted. You WILL stop this."

"No."

I want to take it back the second I've said it. I'm embarrassed by my own behaviour, I'm horrified by how little respect I'm showing him, and even though I feel silly for it, I'm terrified of what his reaction will be. Despite all that, I stand firm. I'd like to call it courage or willpower, but even I realize it's just childish stubbornness.

His eyes widen briefly, than narrow in anger.

"Foolish," he scolds me, "always so foolish!"

"Precisely what all the other clans say, as well, although for different reasons."

I didn't mean to say that. I slap my hands to my mouth, wondering what in the world is wrong with me. I'm expecting my uncle to explode.

He sighs and sags a bit.

"You really are miserable, aren't you?" he asks softly.

I'm completely thrown off. I was expecting him to be angry, what is he doing being concerned for my happiness? When has he ever been concerned about me, other than enough to ensure my survival?

"And you can't believe I care." He sighs again, sits down on the floor and motions me to do the same. I do.

"Tommy, you can't keep this up. You're exhausting yourself. You think you're making yourself stronger and faster, but you're gradually becoming weaker and slower, because you're not getting enough sleep."

He doesn't sound angry at all, only concerned. I almost feel like flippantly asking him who he is and what he has done with my uncle. I only just manage to contain the urge.

"I'm not THAT tired," I say instead. Again, I sound like a brat even to myself. "I mean to say, I really do think I'm benefiting from the extra training, enough to be worth cutting back on sleep a little."

"And you're wrong."

"It's my decision!"

"Yes, it is."

I blink at him.

"What?" I stutter.

"It's your decision. As long as you still accomplish your missions, it is not my place to dictate what you do on your own time."

"So… I can keep on training?"

"I need you to cut back."

Now I'm confused. What is he playing at? He just said it was my decision, and just as I'm getting over the shock of that, he takes it back? I turn up the formality in an effort to hide my strong desire to yell something witty – which would probably turn out to actually be more stupid than anything else - and to storm off.

"Hard Master, I don't understand. I thought you said…"

"It's a request, not an order," he interrupts me.

"Oh."

I'm still confused. He can't honestly think I'm going to accept that 'request', so what's the point in even making it?

"Before you refuse, hear my offer," he continues.

I raise my eyebrows and nod for him to continue.

"In the past month, you have averaged three hours of training a night, but because you don't have a teacher, you're only doing basic training. It is my opinion that this is doing you no good whatsoever. The strength training you are doing can't compensate for the fact you have no strength from lack of sleep. The same can be said for all aerobic, endurance and speed training. The only things you've been doing that could be somewhat profitable are archery and seeing-ear training, but you do NOT need to improve your skills in either of those disciplines. I suspect you only practice them because you enjoy how easy it is."

I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me with a hand gesture.

"I offer to replace these three hours of useless training by one hour of training with a teacher. The Soft Master will teach you, one hour a day. If you are away on a mission for several days, your hours will be banked, but you will not be able to redeem more than one of those banked hours a day, for a daily maximum of two hours of training."

I'm a bit taken aback by the formality and rigidity of the offer, but sorely tempted. I don't think my current training regiment is as pointless as my uncle believes it is, but I'd be lying if I said I was satisfied with my progress.

"What is there to hesitate about?" my uncle demands. "I'm offering you precisely what you've been asking for ever since you returned!"

"How many hours of daily training does my brother get?" I ask him. I try to sound casual, but it's clear right away, from his expression, that he doesn't buy it.

"Four to five hours of actual instruction," he answers. "He IS a full-time student, what else would you expect?"

"That kata he just attempted is the last one I learned before leaving for the war. Technically, he is pretty well at the same level I am," I continue. By offering to make me both a part-time student and a wage earner, my uncle has drawn my attention to the fact that Chatterbox is advanced enough to go on missions as well.

"You are fully aware that he is a very talented student."

I hold back a groan. Leave it to my uncle to make me spell it out.

"Couldn't he be earning some wages?" I ask.

"He has declined to do so," my uncle says. "Unlike you, he has no obligation to support the clan, and he is perfectly entitled to not go on missions. He has also refused to enter the tournament again and swore to lose on purpose if I made him enter anyway."

I sigh. I can't say I blame him, I'd refused to go on missions too, if I could. I don't understand about the tournament, but because my winning had no effect in the end, I have trouble imagining his winning would. The thing is, if he stays a full-time student and I only get one hour of training a day, how am I going to keep up with him? What will people think of the Arashikage when our newest student becomes better than me?

I need more than one hour of training a day. Yet, at the same time, I need a teacher. I can't believe my uncle doesn't see that. It suddenly occurs to me that he might. All at once, I understand exactly what's going on:

The Hard Master knows that Chatterbox will soon be better than me and of course, he would prefer I remain the best because I'm the heir of the clan. Therefore, he will allow me to train again.

For full-time students, each hour of formal instruction means about two hours of individual training, so by offering me an hour of formal instruction, he's actually encouraging me to train a total of three hours a day: exactly what I've been doing.

However, he'd be seen as a slave driver if he actually asked me to do three hours of training a day on top of my missions, so he phrased it in such a way as to make it sound like he was cutting back on the training that silly little me was doing without his approval.

It's all I can do to keep my face neutral. I need to figure out how to phrase my accepting his offer so that I'm not committing to limiting my training to the formal instruction time; this is not just about me anymore, it's about what my uncle needs of me. As much as the Hard Master and I can butt head, I'd never want to disappoint him.

He's glaring at me impatiently. He must have expected me to figure this out quicker than I did.

"I'd be very grateful of the Soft Master if he could teach me for an hour a day," I say.

"So you will stop training by yourself?" he asks.

I'm taken aback. Why is he making this difficult? My mind races to find an answer that won't limit my training time and still satisfy his obsession with making it appear he's making me cut back.

I settle on being insulted by the question.

"Don't you know I wouldn't trick you?" I ask.

My uncle relaxes. He's almost smiling.

"Very well," he says. "We have a deal."

I smile and bow.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

I think it's fairly obvious, but just in case I'm mistaken, I wanted to clarify that Tommy is displaying a lot more imagination than anything else when he "figures out" what the Hard Master is trying to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Things go smoothly for a while. The Soft Master is a very good teacher, and it's a treat to see his smiling face almost every day. I'm so happy with my progress that I allow myself more sleep again, and as much as I hate to admit it, I feel a lot better for it.

* * *

_\- A month later -_

My training sessions are scheduled around my missions and so, can be at any hour of the day. Today, the hour-long lesson is scheduled in the early afternoon, right before I leave for a protection mission that will keep me until tomorrow morning. The Soft Master meets me outside the dojo and tells me we are joining the Hard Master and my brother.

My heart accelerates. Students from different teachers usually only train together by sparring, which likely means my uncles want us to duel. I can't say exactly why, but I don't like the idea at all.

I can't do anything about it, however, and I obediently follow my teacher. My suspicions are confirmed when we get to the Hard Master's dojo: my brother has a duelling sword on his hip.

"Young Master, Soft Master, come in," the Hard Master greets us.

My brother bows to us and I bow back. The Soft Master smiles but doesn't bow.

"Young Master, please take a sword. You haven't duelled in a long time, this will be beneficial," the Soft Master tells me.

I get a sword and its sheath, attach it to my belt and place myself in front of my brother. We get into position, swords out. The Soft Master gives the signal and we start.

The Hard Master turns around and starts walking out. Both my brother and I are surprised and stop duelling for a moment. I recover quicker and charge. I hear the Soft Master asking the Hard Master, doesn't he want to see the winner?

My brother blocks and charges me. I hear the Hard Master replying that I've lost the match already.

I block my brother and curse under my breath. My uncle is right, as usual. My brother is better than me. I realize that I'm not surprised - I knew he would be. That's why I didn't want to duel him.

I'm furious at myself: it took me almost two years to stop making excuses for myself and to start training again, and in the past month, I've contented myself with one hour a day more often than not. My laziness has finally caught up with me: a second year student is beating me, and when word gets out, I – and by extension, my clan – are going to be a laughing stock.

Chatterbox charges again with a weird move that leaves his left arm wide open. I react instinctively before my brains catch up with me: I slash at his arm, cutting his sleeve and scraping his flesh. The duel ends with this first hit. It didn't even last long enough for the Hard Master to make his way out of the dojo.

The Soft Master teases the Hard Master on his wrong prediction. He wasn't looking, so he doesn't realize my brother threw the match. The Hard Master chuckles: he didn't need to see the match, he knows. I feel like screaming.

The Soft Master and I leave and go back to our own dojo to finish my hour of training. I know I need all the help I can get, but I still can't concentrate. I go through the exercises the Soft Master gives me mechanically until he stops me.

"Go talk to your brother," he sighs. "We'll bank the last few minutes of this lesson."

I apologize, thank him, bow and stalk off. He follows me.

"They are probably still training, and I doubt the Hard Master will cut the lesson short if you're the one who asks for it," he explains. "I want to talk to him as well, anyway."

We make our way back to the Hard Master's dojo. We run into the Hard Master and his student, who were walking towards the Soft Master's dojo.

The Hard Master barely spares me a glance, but looks surprised to see the Soft Master.

"You too?" he asks him.

The Soft Master nods and walks away. The Hard Master shrugs and follows him, leaving my brother and me alone.

I look at them walk until they enter into the main house of the compound, then round on my brother.

"How stupid do you think I am?" I hiss at him.

"I don't think you're stupid at all," he says evenly.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice that your technique suddenly changed from 'flawless' to 'Hmm. I think I'd like to get my arm cut off!'?"

"I didn't think it was THAT obvious."

I snort. I'm so angry that my fists are clenched and I'd love to sink one into his face.

"Why? Why did you do that?"

"I just…"

"Shh!" I interrupt him. The matter has just been driven clear out of my mind by the voices I hear coming from the main building.

"My uncles…" I whisper, "they're arguing. Yelling. I can barely make it out… they must be in one of the quiet rooms…"

This should tell me to not listen, and in fact, to do my best not to hear, but I've never heard them so much as arguing before, and I'm pretty sure they're talking about Chatterbox and me.

I know I shouldn't, but I strain my ears. My brother stays quiet and looks around, presumably to see if anyone can see us. I take the hint and motion him to follow. I walk to the nearest rock garden, as quietly as I can while looking casual. Nobody will question my sitting quietly in a rock garden, making it a perfect eavesdropping spot.

I close my eyes and concentrate on my uncles' voices. I can't believe I'm doing this: spying on my own family… what is wrong with me? And yet, I can't make myself stop. In fact, I'm enjoying myself: Chatterbox isn't even trying to stop me, making him a partner in crime. I can't understand why I was so angry with him seconds earlier: sure, it's insulting he thought I wouldn't realize he was letting me win, but it's not like he insulted me on purpose.

The voices become more distinct as I make myself ignore all other noises around.

"I will NOT lie to him!" the Hard Master yells.

I don't wonder for long whether he means me. The Soft Master is yelling back.

"Are you implying that _I_ would lie to our only nephew? What you did today was not honesty, it was cruelty!"

"You may stop short of speaking lies, but here you are telling me off for not concealing a truth he would have found out about sooner or later. At least, this way, he was not humiliated in public. Nobody else than the four of us needs to know this duel even took place."

The Hard Master doesn't quite yell this, and I would not have heard it had I not been listening so intently.

"And what was the rationale behind displaying such certainty that your student would win?" The Soft Master has followed his brother's example and is talking a bit softer, although he still sounds just as angry. It's becoming difficult to hear them at all.

"Tommy needed to know today's result was not a coincidence or a stroke of luck for his brother."

"You're just rubbing his nose in it! You heard some people say he was becoming full of himself and you took it upon yourself to humble him!"

"You're being silly," the Hard Master says, forcefully but calmly.

I can't make out the rest. Their voices are down to normal and I can only hear indistinct mumbling.

I sigh.

"What did you hear?" Chatterbox breathes, without turning towards me.

I get up, heading for my room to change into street clothes for my mission. He follows me.

"The Hard Master thought I needed a lesson in humility, and he got you to deliver it," I whisper. "He probably sees it as a bonus that you took pity on me and tried to throw the match. Do you have any idea how insulting that was? I don't need your pity, and I'm not so oblivious that I couldn't tell!"

I turn towards him as I say it, scowling. I'm not really mad at him anymore, I'm too busy being furious with a certain uncle of mine, but I do want to impress upon him that he shouldn't have done that.

He rolls his eyes.

"I gathered," he says. "Are you sure you heard Sensei right? That's not what he told me."

"Well of course he told you something different!" I say. "Would you have co-operated, otherwise?"

"I really don't think…"

"I heard him right," I cut him off just as we get to my door. "I need to get ready. I'm sorry I got so angry with you: you didn't deserve it."

"Listen…" he says.

"I wouldn't expect you NOT to defend your sensei, but there's no need. He's the head of the clan, and if he thinks I need more humility, my job is to figure out why and to work on it, not to complain."

"Don't give me that. You're furious with him."

"That's MY problem. You really have to excuse me; I don't want to be late."

I slip in my chamber and close the door. He opens it back up and lets himself in.

"We need to talk," he says.

"So talk," I say, changing. I'm not actually trying to be rude and ignore him, but I really do need to get going – I should be on my way to my client by now.

"When are you expected?" he asks me, presumably to determine whether I really am in such a hurry. He glances at his watch.

"I'm expected downtown in half an hour," I answer. "It'll take me that long to drive there if there's traffic, and I can't assume there isn't."

"Alright, I'll just go with you and we'll talk on the way."

I blink at him.

"You don't have any more lessons for today? I can't let you keep the car, and you can't run back here in broad daylight. You'd have to walk, or run slowly at best."

"I'm skipping class," he answers. "Am I going to get thrown out?"

I snicker. Fat chance of that when he's the best student we've ever had.

"Go advise someone, I'll get the car."

He nods and runs off.

* * *

There's no traffic, and we're at the bank where I'm meeting with my client with twenty minutes to spare. I park the car in the underground lot and we stay in it.

"For someone who wanted to talk, you've been very quiet," I remark. "You have about 20 minutes, you might want to get started."

He crosses his arms, frowning in thought. He looks like he doesn't know where to start.

"Does Sensei know I'm not going to stay here forever?" he asks.

I shrug, doing my best not to show that _I_ certainly had no idea. I choose to assume he's only thinking of leaving eventually, not anytime soon.

"I have no idea what he imagines your long-term plans to be. If you're worried about it, you need to talk to him, not to me."

"How is he going to react when I leave?"

I clench my jaw. So much for my assumption – it's obvious he's already made up his mind to leave in the near future, and he's just trying to get some sense of how my uncle will react.

"After your probation, you swore undying loyalty to this clan," I remind him. He couldn't talk Japanese at the time, but I had translated the whole ceremony for him ahead of time.

"That doesn't mean I can't leave, does it?"

"No," I reluctantly admit. "But you're not expected to. My first teacher faked his death once to make a point of how tedious it was to respect all the normal protocol and to get all the normal permissions and blessings when going away. Students who leave before they have fully gained our trust aren't even allowed to remember anything about their stay with us."

"What do you mean, they're not allowed to remember?"

"We use a mind altering technique to erase their memories."

I glance at him, wondering how he'll react. The practice is a necessary evil, and I usually prefer not to think about it.

"So I'd lose everything I learned…" He sighs. He sags a bit in his seat, understandably depressed at the idea. As much as I'm tempted to frighten him into staying, he looks so down that I can't help trying to lift his spirits a bit.

"I could be wrong, so don't base any decision on this, but I think my uncles would prefer to avoid that. You're extremely good… if they believe they still have your loyalty, they will not want you to go to waste. I think."

I glance at my watch. It's ten minutes to the start of my mission.

"Anything else you wanted to talk about?" I ask him.

"Plenty," he answers. "I think I'll just accompany you on this mission. Would that be all right?"

My eyes widen a bit. He's really full of surprises today – good and bad.

"I thought you weren't interested in going on missions?" I ask him.

"I'm making an exception," he grunts.

"I'm playing bodyguard today. I can't be in the company of someone wearing a gi: people will suspect what we really are."

He grabs the packsack he brought along and pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I smirk and look around the parking lot: there's nobody around.

"All right," I say. "It'll be nice to have someone to talk to, but stick to English, and be sure not to mention ninjas or even my family name."

He nods and changes into his clothes while I listen out and keep looking at the entrance to the lot to make sure nobody walks in on us.

* * *

I meet my client at the appointed time, my brother in tow. I bow briefly to the man and introduce myself as his appointed bodyguard without giving a name. He nods curtly and looks questioningly at my brother.

"He's an apprentice," I explain. "If you could permit him to stay, it would be a learning experience for him. There will be no extra charge, of course."

My client looks him up and down and nods again. We follow him to his limousine and we're off to his destination: a cocktail party where his former business partner, who is constantly trying to intimidate him with veiled death threats, will be in attendance. My client hopes he will realize we are actually ninjas and back off.

Because we're also paying close attention to our surroundings, my conversation with Chatterbox unfolds at a snail's pace and lasts all night.

I learn two things. The first one is that my brother is actually still in the army, and simply on a leave of absence. He intends to return to full-time duty, and thus to leave the clan, within the next 6 months… even sooner than I feared.

The second thing I find out from this conversation is that although we usually only manage to talk to each other about once a month, my brother is extraordinarily well informed about me. He explained that he hears a lot from the clan in general and from my uncle in particular. I would never have imagined that my uncle would even spare me a thought when he is with his student, but apparently, I was wrong.

I also asked him about his training, mostly so he wouldn't think I don't care: I do care, but I'm just as well informed about him as he is about me, by much the same means. He stopped me after the second question and made me admit I already knew everything I was asking about.

* * *

We get back to the compound at dawn the next day, with nothing more exciting happening on the mission proper than my client's former business associate recognizing me - I recognized him too, he's one of the collectors - and avoiding my client for the rest of the night.

The Hard Master is waiting for us by my chambers.

"Young Master, I hope my student did not trouble you," he says, ignoring said student.

"Not at all," I answer.

He nods, still ignoring my brother, who looks a lot like a schoolboy being given detention.

"Your next assignment is tomorrow morning. The Soft Master would like to see you at 1400, well rested."

I bow.

"As for you." The Hard Master finally gives his student all his attention. "You will do endurance training today. Run the long course three times before breakfast. I will give you your next task afterward."

My brother bows, after the smallest – understandable - twinge. The long course is aptly named: it winds around the whole compound and even at top speed, it takes nearly an hour to complete. My uncle nods, satisfied, and leaves.

I was going to skip out to a secluded part of the compound to train, but the Hard Master just ordered me to be well rested by 1400, so I have no choice but to go to bed. At least, with my next assignment as far as tomorrow morning, I will have most of the afternoon and evening to train. Such a long time between missions is so unusual that I feel like I'm on vacation until tomorrow morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The Soft Master spends a full two hours with me, and gives me such a workout that I don't even get the chance to ask him about his talk with the Hard Master. It's probably just as well – I would have almost certainly betrayed the fact that I heard some of it.

I have dinner with the rest of the clan, for the first time in months. I end up catching up with my younger cousin, who is much better company, at the moment, than my exhausted and cranky brother. She reveals to me that the Hard Master hasn't given him a minute of rest all day.

I go straight to the shooting range after dinner. I can imagine my uncle telling me that if I'm going to train, I should work on my weaknesses, not my strengths, but it occurred to me during the day that the best I can hope for is to not fall too far behind my brother when it comes to combat or sword-play. If I don't want to be second best at everything, my best bet is to improve my specialties even more. If nothing else, I'll at least have the excuse of being a specialist when the other clans find out a student can defeat me in a duel.

Besides, without a teacher, improving what I already know is the only thing I CAN do. At least, this particular training is like shooting two birds with one stone because I have found a way to train in both archery and seeing ear at once: I'm shooting rodents from behind walls. It implies shooting with enough strength for the arrow to go through the wall, enough precision to hit small moving targets, and locating said targets without seeing them.

I only have time to get my gear before I hear my brother slouching in my direction. The Hard Master really must have been tough on him.

I turn towards him and motion him forward, more to let him know I don't mind his presence than anything else: he was already coming this way anyway.

"Have you ever done endurance training with your uncle for a whole day?" he asks, sitting down heavily with his back against the wall where the paper targets are hung.

"He was never my main teacher," I reply. "I think the worst I've been through was the early seeing-ear training."

"Did you really wear a blindfold for two years?" he asks me.

"Well, it was actually blacked out goggles, but yes."

"And you were supposed to cheat, but you didn't?"

I scowl at the memory.

* * *

_I'm so excited to finally be starting my advanced training that my hand shakes as it pushes the partition to the Seeing Master's dojo aside._

_I've been told he would hear me coming just fine even if I didn't talk and that although I would announce my presence to anyone else, doing so to him would be insulting. I understand perfectly: I've always found it completely silly to call out that you were there whenever you entered a room. Whoever is in the room will have heard the partition and will be able to hear your heartbeat, breathing and steps as you actually enter. Having a Master that dispenses with such a useless tradition makes me all the more eager to start my training._

_The Seeing Master turns towards me._

_"Ah, Tommy. Come in," he says._

_I babble some greeting phrase and a thank you for accepting to teach me._

_"I'm not sure you'll feel so grateful in a few hours time," he says. "Do you know why I was asked to teach you, instead of one your uncles?"_

_I notice at that point that not only is he facing me, his face is pointing straight to mine. It's like the empty eyes are actually drilling right into mine. The thought makes me swallow nervously. Even if he has been told or has guessed how tall I am, how is he managing to 'look' straight at my eyes like that? Isn't he supposed to be completely blind? I shake my questions away to answer the one he posed me._

_"Father told me that you would be a better teacher for me, Master," I reply. I realize as I say it that it wasn't much of an answer. My new sensei confirms this by sniggering._

_"Indeed," he says. "Now why would he think that? Do you have any idea?"_

_"N…no," I admit._

_"You didn't announce yourself when you came in. I'm guessing you were told not to? Someone explained to you I'd hear you come in just fine even if you didn't say a word?"_

_I nod before I can catch myself. I mentally call myself an idiot and answer out loud._

_"Yes, Master."_

_"Did you notice I also recognized you? Granted, I was expecting you, but I assure you I know who's nearby at any time, whether I expect them to be there or not. Additionally..."_

_He walks up to me, stopping right in front of me. He crouches so that his face is right in front of mine._

_"... I can do this," he finishes, touching the tip of my nose with his finger, without ever feeling his way on my face._

_I'm impressed, but I still don't understand what it has to do with his teaching me._

_"I use a technique called the seeing ear," the Seeing Master says, staying at my level._

_I find the blind stare very disturbing._

_"I also use my other senses a lot," he continues. "Not only can I hear you and deduce where your mouth and nose are, I can smell you, and I can feel the air currents around you when you move or when you breathe so close to my own face. The air is so still today that I was even able to detect it when you nodded earlier. Being blind is not nearly as serious a handicap as most people who can see have: they rely on their eyes so much they completely neglect their other senses."_

_I don't know what to say so I just stay quiet._

_"You still have no idea why you're here, do you?" he asks. "You're a bit dense, aren't you? Unless... can you hear my heart beat right now?"_

_I blink, thrown off by the quick change from an interesting conversation on using all your senses, to an insult, to a silly question. What's the point of asking me that?_

_"Of course I can, Master," I reply. I realize a second too late that this wasn't the most polite way to answer, but thankfully, he doesn't look upset._

_He gets back up and walks back to the other end of the room, about 20 paces away from me._

_"How about now?" he asks. "Can you still hear my heartbeat?"_

_I'm starting to feel like we're wasting a lot of time. Am I not supposed to be training?_

_"Yes, Master," I reply. "Shouldn't I?"_

_"As I expected, you obviously think I'm asking you stupid questions. You never realized most people can only hear a heartbeat if they stick their ear right on someone's chest or pulse point," He replies. "You just assumed everyone could hear just like you."_

_My eyes widen. Did he just tell me most people are practically deaf?_

_"You're kidding," I blurt out before I can help myself. "Aren't you, Master?" I add, trying to undo the disrespect._

_"No, I'm not. You were sent here because your hearing is exceptional, which makes you an ideal student for the seeing ear technique. I'm a Master of this technique, therefore I shall teach you. When I'm through with you, you will be able to identify people based on their heartbeats and breathing patterns; you will be able to fight in complete darkness with as much ease as in broad daylight; you will be able to tell exactly where something thrown or shot is going simply by the sound it makes through the air... all that in addition to the more traditional training I will also put you through. Be warned, however, that you won't enjoy this training."_

_I never expected real training to be pleasant, so the warning doesn't worry me at all. Besides, I can't wait to be able to do the things he's just told me about, so I don't care how hard it's going to be. He seems to be waiting for a response, so I give it._

_"I'm ready, Master," I say._

_He smiles._

_"Good. Go get the bag that is next to the entrance," he orders._

_I get the bag and start bringing it to him._

_"Open it," he says before I get close to him._

_I do. Inside the bag is a pair of blacked-out goggles._

_"The first step in your training is to break you of the habit of relying on your eyes. You will learn to use your other senses, including, and in your case, probably almost exclusively, your hearing. You will wear these at all times, starting now. You are forbidden to remove them except in case of most extreme emergencies."_

_I see now why he warned me this wasn't going to be fun. It's my job as a student to do what my sensei tells me, however, and I intend to do a good job. Besides, I've already said I was ready to start; I can't back out now. I put the goggles on, adjusting them until I can't see anything at all._

_"Good," the Seeing Master says. "Now, perform the early kata number 1 for me. I know you're up to number 35, but you'll almost certainly have more trouble with them when you can't see."_

_And so, my training starts. At the end of the lesson, I've fallen way more often than I care to admit, but I'm up to early kata number 5 and being in the dark barely feels strange at all._

_"Remember that you must keep the goggles on at all times, not just during training," my sensei reminds me. "If anyone questions it, refer them to me."_

_"Yes, Master. How long...?"_

_"Probably two or three years," he says._

_I assume he's kidding._

* * *

He wasn't. For two years, I only took the goggles off when instructed to do so, for about one hour twice a month. This regular "break" was a precaution against the possibility that I would lose the use of my eyes from not using them for so long. I found out after my training was complete that I was the first trainee in thirty years to be given official breaks. They were usually not necessary because almost every kid going through this training cheated; it was expected. At the time, I felt like the biggest fool in the world: I had desperately wanted to cheat on several occasions, and I had only resisted the temptation out of fear the Seeing Master would refuse to continue teaching me. And it turned out he wouldn't have because I was SUPPOSED to cheat.

I hated those two years, but at least…

"It paid off," I hiss.

To demonstrate, I shoot a squirrel on the other side of the wall my brother is leaning against. The rodent falls to the ground with a thud.

My brother shoots up and glances over the wall before turning back to me, looking sick. I raise an eyebrow: he can't be that squeamish after being a ninja for so long, so what's the matter?

"You killed it just to show off?" he asks me. He sounds genuinely disgusted.

"No," I reply, keeping my voice as calm as I can. "It's training. I started before you left to show off. I didn't realize you had a deep affection for rodents."

"You need to murder animals to train?" he flips out.

"Murder? It's a rat with a fluffy tail!" I cry out. "It's not murder, it's pest control!"

My brother sighs and shakes his head.

"What was the point?" he asks me. "It's not like you needed to shoot it to know you knew where it was, is it?"

I roll my eyes at him. I don't care how tired he is, he's being stupid.

"It's target practice," I say, making no effort to hide my irritation and talking as slowly as I would if he spoke no more Japanese than he did before he started training. "I need to reach a point where my hands can follow my ears just as well as they can my eyes."

"They ALREADY can," he snarls. "You're just doing this to stroke your ego."

The accusation stings a lot more than I can explain. He's wrong, he's completely wrong: I'm doing this because I need to stay the best at something. I need to not be completely outclassed by him because I'm expected to be the best in the clan. I'm the heir, I can't be second best to a student at everything!

How dare he say something like that? Who is he to judge me? He's just a student, and I'm the third highest ranked member of the clan. If not for me, he wouldn't even be alive, how DARE he lecture me on killing a garden pest? I need to say something before I explode.

"You're wrong: this has nothing to do with my ego," I hiss. "Maybe it has to do with yours? Maybe you can't stand to see me do something you still can't do, something you'll never be able to best me at?" The thought just occurred to me, but I'm automatically certain that I've hit the nail on the head.

He completely ignores the point.

"You're killing for nothing! Didn't you get enough blood on your hands in the war?" he cries out.

Part of me does realize that THIS is what this whole argument is really about: he can't understand that I'd kill without absolute need after having to kill so many during the war. That part of me, however, is completely drown out by my anger. I will only become fully conscious of what he said and what it meant later that night, once the argument is long over.

Right now, I'm too furious to even register what he said, other than the certainty it's not an admission to being wrong or an apology.

"ENOUGH!" I yell. "You will NOT question my training methods!"

"Fine, 'Young Master'," he snarls. He brushes past me, stopping short of shoving me out of his way as he leaves the shooting range. I snarl at his back.

* * *

I meet my new client the following morning, and he provides a complete distraction from the previous evening's argument.

Hours later, I still can't get over how disturbing he is. I suppose I should be grateful that this is the first time I have such a strange client. That smooth, polished metal mask of his is downright creepy: he doesn't even have eye-holes. It's obvious he can see, however, and I've amused myself for the past little while trying to guess how. There are a few possibilities - the metal could be like a two-way mirror, or actually act as a video camera somehow, just to name the first two that popped in my head, but I'm already bored with trying to figure it out.

The mask is not the only thing about him that makes me uncomfortable either: he hisses. I don't care that his organization is named after a snake, there's just no excuse for sounding so annoying. And just to make things worse, he can't seem to shut up. I've been told I'm chatty, but I don't hold a candle to him. He's been blabbering on about how the American Government doesn't support free enterprise for the past hour.

"But enough about those hypocrites," he says. "Tell me about you."

I snap back to reality and try to think of something to say about me that won't invite more questions.

"I am a ninja," I say with a shrug. I'm hoping he'll get the hint that I don't want to talk about myself.

He laughs as though that was the funniest thing he has ever heard. Amazingly, his laugh somehow manages to be even more annoying than his voice.

"I know that!" he eventually cackles. "Although the other clans I've approached before hiring you seem to think you and the rest of your family are more like samurai wannabes."

I shrug. It's an old jibe, and as far as insults go, being called too honourable is hardly devastating.

"I also know your name is Tommy Arashikage," he continues. "And your mother was American. Your father died while you were in the war and you've taken on his mercenary duties despite not being interested in this line of work. I also know that you are considered the best in Japan - except maybe for that student of your uncle's."

He stops, waiting for me to answer something. He looks like he hopes I'll be shocked by how much he knows. I am a bit surprised he knows how good my brother is, but I'm not going to let him know that. I shrug.

"If you already know about me, why ask?"

"Because I want to know more!" he answers irritably. "You're supposed to do whatever I ask you, right?"

"No," I answer. "I will protect you for the extent of your contract with my clan. You did not hire a servant."

"You're no fun," he whines.

I shrug again. He says nothing for a moment, which gives me the chance to pick up something I had missed: a group of nearly fifty people, standing right outside the building.

"Would your enemies come after you as a large group? About fifty?" I ask my client hurriedly.

He jumps out of his chair and frantically looks around.

"Yes," he hisses. "They're here?"

"Downstairs," I confirm. "We should go."

I'm already heading for the door. I turn to make sure he's following and hold back a sigh: he's not.

"We can escape by the roof," I explain. "Follow me."

"I have an important meeting here in an hour. I don't want to leave this place. Fight them off," he says with the usual hissing.

My eyes narrow in a scowl.

"You will be safer away from here, so I'm taking you away from here."

"What are you going to do, carry me away kicking and screaming?" he cackles. "I have full confidence in your abilities to hold off a few men. We're staying."

I briefly consider picking him up and dragging him away, as he says, kicking and screaming, but our brief conversation has already killed our chance for escape. Whoever is after him is trampling up the stairs.

I only have time to put myself in position facing the door, right in front of my client, before a group of armed men comes crashing in. My initial plan was to attack them right away, before they get their bearings, but I'm too shocked to move for one second, and it's all it takes for them to conclude we're not armed – my weapons are concealed - and to lower their own weapons.

The reason for my shock – my former sergeant - steps forward and looks right past me at my client.

"Hiring local kids as bodyguards, now, Cobra Commander?"

He doesn't recognize me, which is a relief. I do believe this is the first time I'm glad my full uniform, the one that I wear on missions where my clients want it to be obvious that they have hired a ninja, includes a mask.

"He's no mere kid," my client says. "This boy is a ninja and has fought and defeated larger groups than yours all on his own. I suggest you back off."

I must admit, he's got nerve. Sadly for him, he's quite wrong to think there's any possibility I'm going to injure soldiers on his behalf. If my former sergeant is here chasing him, it's because he's wanted by the American military, most likely for good reasons.

Sergeant Wilkinson – or whatever his rank is now, I can't tell because he's not in a standard uniform - turns towards me.

"Listen kid, you speak English?" he asks.

I nod. I don't want to talk; I don't want to chance his recognizing my voice. I've never been more ashamed and yet, I know that I'm going to have to do even worse than just happen to be here before this is over. I'm sworn to protect my client, so I'm going to have to help him escape capture.

"This man is the head of a terrorist organization called Cobra," Wilkinson informs me. "Cobra is responsible for hundreds of deaths already, and we're not going to let this guy get away. If you try and fight us, we're probably going to have to kill you."

If I wasn't so mortified at having such a person as a client, I would have found that threat laughable. I could have killed most of them during the time it took him to tell me this. It's not like bullets are that difficult to dodge, especially when only two shooters have a clear shot at me that doesn't go through some of their own guys.

I make a show of swallowing and looking hesitant while standing my ground. I need him to keep talking a bit more while I figure out how to get my client out of here alive without killing any of the soldiers.

"Look, kid," my old sergeant says. "We know ninjas are illegal, but we honestly don't care. We're not going to turn you in. Just go away and let us do our job. I'm sorry for your contract, but you're not going to get paid either if we end up having to put a bunch of holes in you."

I'm barely listening to him, concentrating instead on the layout of the apartment, the building, and the quickest escape route – not to mention the best way to silence my client without harming him. Wilkinson is looking at me impatiently. I'm about to risk saying something when my client saves me the trouble.

"What are you waiting for? Attack them!" he hisses.

I shake my head. This seems to satisfy Wilkinson, who smiles at me.

"That's a good lad. Alright, step aside."

I do, and in the same motion, I throw a smoke bomb between my client and the soldiers. I run back to my client, grab him and whisper in his ears.

"I will honour my contract with you by helping you escape. If you cause them to find us, I'm out of here. Don't answer, you can vent at me later."

While I was telling him this, I've picked him up and jumped out the window, which was mercifully opened.

My eyes widen before I roll them at myself. The Hard Master is right, I AM foolish. Anybody could see this window was opened, including the soldiers. And since they saw it, they prepared against my client escaping this way by leaving a good thirty men right below it. The real stinger is that I knew the soldiers who came up the stairs weren't all there was, and if I'd only thought to listen out for the rest of them, I would have easily located them.

I can really be a complete idiot sometimes. I do have enough sense, however, not to waste my time rehashing past mistakes. I brush the matter off my mind and concentrate on how to proceed from here.

I twist in mid-air and kick off the side of the building to change my trajectory and to face my opponents. I shoot shurikens at their weapons and hands with my free hand until I land. The obvious thing to do would be to bounce right back up and attack the group with my katanas, but if I did that, my client could easily be taken out while I'm fighting. Unlike the last time I battled such a large armed group, my current client does not have the option to run off and hide while I take care of the attackers, and it's debatable whether he'd have the sense to, anyway. On top of that, I killed the attackers last time, which meant the group got smaller and smaller, and thus easier to deal with, as the battle went. There is absolutely no way I'm doing that this time.

So, instead of attacking, I throw another smoke bomb, secure my hold on my client, jump over a couple of soldiers while they scramble for their heat-vision goggles and run right past them. I turn on the next street and run into the first public building I see.

It's a restaurant, which is perfect: they almost always have a back door. Still dragging my client, I storm into the kitchen, knock off a few things for chaos, just in case we're being followed more closely than I'd like, and throw myself against the door.

The door refuses to budge. I glance at it and curse loudly: it's an emergency exit only door, with a fifteen seconds delay and a trigger for the fire alarm. I keep the pressure on but quickly look around, hoping for a window or a big air vent. The one vent is too small to get into and the only windows are in the main part of the restaurant, which is already filled with soldiers, all of them aiming at us again. The cooks look like a bunch of deer caught in headlights, staring back and forth between myself and my client and the fully-armed soldiers.

I curse again. I don't want to fight soldiers, especially not for this client. I throw my last smoke bomb at the smoke detector and the door finally opens, accompanied by an ear-splitting siren.

I can't help wincing and my eyes immediately fill with water. I squeeze out with my client, shoving him out with my elbow because both my hands are pressed against my ears in a vain effort to dim the noise. As soon as he's out, he steps away from me and stays there. I grab his arm, regretfully uncovering one of my ears, and try to drag him away. He digs in his heels and starts hitting me.

"What are you doing?" I scream. I can barely hear myself over the siren. "Don't slow me down, run!"

He says something I can't quite make out over the alarm, but I pick up enough to understand he wants to see me fight.

Oh, I wish I could just kill him. Right now, however, I have to deal with the soldiers pouring out of the restaurant's back door.

They yell something at me, but the siren is getting even louder and I can't hear anything else. I need to get away from here: the noise is really hurting me, it's going to make me deaf yet. I feel panic taking hold of me at the thought of losing my hearing.

I take out my katana and face the soldiers, who take out their guns. My head is ringing, I feel like someone is stabbing me in the ears, and my eyes won't stop watering.

Won't that siren ever stop?

I run to the middle of their group and get to work, aiming at their weapons and hands. They can't shoot me without shooting their comrades, and they have to give me their attention because they think I'll kill them otherwise. My client is getting his wish.

Within seconds, they don't have weapons anymore: even if they picked them up, there's not enough left of them to be of any use. I manage not to kill any of them, but I have to wound a few of the more stubborn men.

Now that they're weapon-less and temporarily stun by their surprise and injuries, I stop long enough to locate the highest ranked member. They're not in uniform, so I have to take a guess. I settle on the man who seems to be thinking hard about what to do next.

Thankfully, Wilkinson is still not here. Even better, the siren finally stops. My ears are still ringing, probably will for days, but I can kind of hear again and my eyes finally stop watering.

"Go away," I say to my pick for the leader of the group. "I can't let you have him today. Just come back tomorrow and I won't be in your way."

"Like I'm going to leak out my position tomorrow as well," my client sniggers.

My eyes narrow. I jump out of the group of soldiers surrounding me, grab him as uncomfortably as I can and we take off. He's laughing his head off and the soldiers don't bother to follow us, calling for reinforcements instead.

Once we're far enough away to be safe, I throw my client on the ground. He's still laughing.

"Still two hours to your contract, Mr Ninja!" he cackles.

"No. You waived my obligations to you by deliberately putting us in danger. I hope you enjoyed the show."

I'm gone before he can reply.

* * *

**Author's note:**

In case you're wondering, Sgt Wilkinson is also known as the GI Joe Stalker.

This whole chapter is almost completely outside established continuity. The only part of it that actually happened in the comic book is the squirrel being shot, and the ensuing argument is not shown – we're just told the incident creates a rift between the two friends.

Can anybody else picture Storm Shadow (in full Cobra gear despite the anachronism) pointing at the wall, shouting "SQUIRREL!", or is it just me?

If you're curious as to why I made up this whole contract with the Cobra Commander, all I can say now is that I had four reasons to do it (or more precisely, doing it was an efficient way to satisfy four story needs), so it wasn't just pointless padding.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I run into the Soft Master as I get back in our compound. He blinks at me, probably surprised to see me back so early, and his eyes widen. He rushes to me, whips my mask off and turns my head this way and that.

"Your ears are bleeding," he says. "Doctor!" he cries out towards the compound. "What happened?" he asks me.

"Fire alarm," I say impatiently. "It's not important. Why did you give me this client?"

He looks down.

"You knew!" I cry out, losing what little self control I had left. "You knew what he was! Why did you let him hire me? Do you know who was after him? The American Army! I almost had to fight my old sergeant! I've never been so glad to be masked! Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was? He's a terrorist! He's already killed hundreds of people, and he tried his best to make me kill the people after him, including tipping them off as to where he was to make sure they'd find him while I was protecting him!"

The Soft Master just stands there, letting me vent. He cuts in when I pause for breath.

"Come," he says. "Let's find that doctor and then the Hard Master, you and I will have a chat."

"When is my next contract?"

"Never mind that. Come."

I curse under my breath and follow.

* * *

The doctor, after a quick examination, predicts my ears will fully recover in a few weeks: my eardrums have been damaged, but not so much that they won't heal with the proper medicine. He gives me the first dose right away, and I take it under the eyes of my uncle. I feel like a school kid being watched by his parents to make sure he really swallows his pills. It does absolutely nothing to improve my mood.

We walk to the Hard Master's office silently, he lost in his thoughts, me seething against the two of them. When we get there, we find the office empty. The Soft Master grabs the first clan member to go by – one of our newest young students - and orders him to go fetch the Hard Master. The kid takes off, running as fast as he can.

The Soft Master and I sit in the office and wait. I'm glaring daggers at him, he's avoiding my eyes.

"Why?" I ask again after a couple of minutes. "Can't you find me respectable clients anymore?"

"Don't be silly," he says.

"What's THAT supposed to mean? Why did you make me protect a mass murderer?"

"Please wait until the Hard Master gets here," he says. "We have several things to talk about; your question is not easily answered."

I clench my jaw and wait. I'm bursting to tell him off, I haven't been this angry in a long time. It doesn't help my mood that I can hardly hear anything: my uncle is only paces away and I can't even hear his heartbeat. It feels like I'm in a room with a lifeless puppet.

The Hard Master arrives quickly enough, startling me when he enters the room; I couldn't even hear his footsteps. He frowns at me, puzzled.

"His eardrums have been damaged by a fire alarm that went off right next to him. The doctor says he'll be all right in a few weeks," the Soft Master explains.

The Hard Master's frown deepens and he sits down.

"Is that why you came back early?" he asks.

The Soft Master shifts uncomfortably, probably regretting he didn't launch right into the actual reason for this little reunion.

"I left my client because he wilfully endangered us by allowing his enemies to find him and repeatedly working towards preventing our escape," I say, keeping a completely formal tone that belies my anger.

The Hard Master raises an eyebrow.

"Did he, now? Why?"

"He wanted to watch me fight."

The Hard Master shrugs.

"Silly man," he comments. "We could have arranged that for a fraction of the price he paid. I still don't understand why you chose to leave. Under these circumstances, I would have expected you to demand not to be hired by this man again, but running away seems a bit… out of character."

I close my eyes, intending to count to ten to cool myself down. The buzzing in my ears and the fact it's drowning almost every other noise automatically becomes a lot more noticeable and I re-open my eyes before I even start counting, even more irritated than I was following my uncle's comment.

"I would have stayed for a normal client," I admit in a snarl, "but you sold me to a mass murderer!"

"I RENTED you," the Hard Master corrects me.

"Fine," I concede to prevent the discussion from turning into a debate of semantics. "Why did you rent me to this man?"

The Hard Master sighs.

"We arrived at the decision to accept less than recommendable clients for you after a lot of debate," he starts. "We ended up discussing the very purpose of this clan, and how to best serve it."

He actually stiffens a bit under the glare I give him.

The purpose of the clan, the reason our founder created it, is to guard a supposedly magical jewel. We have to perform sealing rituals every now and then to prevent its power from being released and apparently, we also have the power to harness it if it becomes necessary for the good of mankind. I have no idea if the jewel is actually magical or not, but considering that if what our founder believed is true, it could destroy the planet, there's really no sense taking any chances. Therefore, we continue to perform the sealing ritual. Thankfully, the other clans don't know – they'd either laugh so hard they'd hurt, or try stealing the thing.

"How does making me fight my former comrades to protect an evil man relate to our purpose?" I growl.

"You're miserable," the Soft Master cuts in, "and that has everything to do with the purpose of the clan, and its future."

"I'm not miserable," I protest. I'm not sure how to describe my general feelings, but saying I'm miserable sounds much too whiny for my taste.

"You hate being a wage-earner, and you hate not being the best in the clan anymore," the Hard Master elaborates. "You have this idea in your head that because you are the heir, you need to be the best, and not being able to train enough to achieve that enrages you. You are jealous of your brother's progress and you feel threatened by his talent."

Trust my uncle to make it sound like I'm being unreasonable.

"I know my brother has surpassed me," I growl, "and I understand that I can never catch up with him, not as long as he's still improving at this rate. The fact that I realize this doesn't mean I'm jealous of him!"

I don't bother denying feeling threatened: I'd be a fool not to.

"Your concern is such that you think you need to be the best in at least one discipline to be able to call yourself a specialist and give yourself an excuse for not being better than one of our students in most disciplines," the Hard Master says.

I swallow. That's exactly right, but I don't like finding out I am this transparent.

The Soft Master sighs. "Your concern is not warranted," he says. "Only a member of our bloodline can lead the Arashikage because only a member of our bloodline, who is also the current head of the clan, can perform the sealing and releasing rituals."

I nod. That's precisely the problem: someone from our family must lead, I'm the only current heir – my cousin's mother, who gave her the name Arashikage, was adopted - yet a student who is not related to us by blood is better than me. We will be stuck with a leader who is not the best of the clan, and will lose all respect from the other clans. If the other clans don't respect us, they will not fear us and we will be under constant attacks by would-be thieves and assassins.

The Soft Master's eyes are drilling into mine and after a second, they widen a bit.

"You're not worried about losing the head of the clan," he says, sounding like it just dawned on him. "You're worried the other clans will not respect the clan anymore if you lead it."

"How could they respect a clan where the students are better than the masters?"

The Hard Master rolls his eyes at me.

"When will you ever get around to training what's above your neck as well as what's below it?" he says. "If you were to become the leader of this clan tomorrow, and if the whole of Japan suddenly found out that your brother is indeed a better fighter than you are, they would still not conclude you are weak. Do you not realize that your brother is simply on an entirely different level than the rest of us? The fact he is part of this clan would make us stronger in the eyes of everyone else, not weaker."

"They will not understand why he is not the head of the clan," I say slowly, as if I were talking to an idiot. I know I'm being incredibly disrespectful, but I am in no mood to be lied to. "And this client you gave me, a foreigner, knew that my brother is better than me; I think you had better stop assuming that this is not common knowledge. Also, don't you know by now that he doesn't intend to stay here forever? What will it look like when he leaves? The other clans will believe he left out of disgust at being kept under me."

I bite my tongue as soon as the words are out. I had no right to reveal my brother's intention to leave to his sensei, and I had no intention to: I just got carried away.

My uncle scowls at me.

"Do you realize just how many things are wrong in what you just said and in how you've said it?" he growls. "I will not tolerate you, of all people, talking down to me."

"Brother," the Soft Master interferes. "You started it, and you're continuing it now. Enough."

There is an authority in his voice that I have never heard him use against his brother. I expect the Hard Master to respond in kind that he will deal with me as he sees fit, but instead, the Hard Master's eyes narrow and he nods.

"That put aside," he continues. "Your client seems to have known your brother personally and to have kept close tabs on him. He knows much more about him than any of the other clans. Your brother is known to be extremely good, but as of yet, very few people realize you are not even better; and as I said, it wouldn't matter if they did. Finally, we are perfectly aware of my apprentice's intentions: he is only on leave from the military, and we have assumed from day one that he intended to leave here eventually. He confirmed our assumption by discussing his intentions with me yesterday."

I'm at least reassured that I did not betray my brother, but I quickly get back on subject.

"You don't deny the other clans will not understand why he is not the leader and that they will misinterpret his departure."

The Hard Master rolls his eyes again and turns to the Soft Master.

"If you insist I don't insult him anymore today, you do the talking for now. He's not even listening to me, and I'm out of patience," he says.

The Soft Master nods and turns to me.

"We just told you, the other clans don't realize he has surpassed you. As long as that's the case, your leadership would not be questioned. In addition, even if that were to change, most ninjas don't share your conviction that the head of a clan must be the strongest fighter. Even if they did, there are ways around such things. All that being said, we're getting off the subject, which is that your missions take up too much of your time at the moment."

"I believe this digression is important, however," the Hard Master cuts in. "As irritating as this conversation is, the Young Master needs to be aware of exactly what his position is, and what it is not. He needs to realize my student is not a threat to him or the clan, and he needs to realize that attempting to surpass his brother, especially with minimal training time, will only lead him to disappointment. He also needs to understand how precious his friendship is."

I clench my jaw and glare at the floor. The only reason my uncle would insist on discussing this is to make me realize how much ahead of me his apprentice is. It suddenly becomes quite clear why they assigned me such a client: they're offering me to the highest bidders to cut down on my mission time so that I'll be able to train more and thus catch up with my brother. I find myself wishing I could enter the Tournament again to get the prize money, but former winners are not allowed to participate. My brother's refusal to re-enter it himself suddenly seems very selfish of him, but I can guess his reasons – it's become clear since the squirrel incident yesterday that although he is training as a ninja, he will always avoid violence unless strictly necessary.

"Yes," the Soft Master agrees, snapping me out of my thoughts and back on the topic, "but I think he deserves to first have his question answered. Why did we allow this man to hire him?"

"I understand why you did, now," I say. "You are trying to give me higher paying clients so that I will have more time to train and have a chance to catch up with my brother."

"Half right," the Soft Master says.

"More like one third," the Hard Master adds. "You are the second best ninja in Japan, and as long as your brother is still in training, you will not catch up no matter what you do. Once he stops training, you will catch up by way of his regressing. His leaving to join the army again is a travesty… so much talent, and it's going to go to waste…"

The Soft Master coughs.

"More training, at this point, is only for your personal comfort," he says. "It will not change your rank, and does not affect the clan, positively or negatively. You're already better than any potential adversary and you have proven time and again that you can defeat groups just as easily as individuals. That being said, we do want you to be comfortable."

I nod, trying to decipher what he's saying. He seems sincere, but I'm guessing the reason that my two uncles seem to be in disagreement is that where the Soft Master does not see a need for me to improve, the Hard Master does. Whether I can catch up or not, it would probably be far less embarrassing if I was at least not too far behind. Either way, I have the answer I was looking for: I ended up with this client because he paid through the nose and by getting higher rates, I can spend less time on missions and more time training.

As much as I want more training time, I can't stand the thought of serving a murderer.

"I will train harder," I say, "but please don't let such clients hire me again."

My uncles sigh.

"This is not about your training harder," the Soft Master says. "It's about your not having to be on missions nearly every waking hour."

"What else than training would you have me do if I had more free time?" I ask, before it dawns on me that the Hard Master is constantly complaining of how foolish I am. "Study?" I guess. "To learn how to run the clan?"

"He's going to make us spell it out, isn't he?" the Hard Master asks his brother.

The Soft Master chuckles.

"It would be beneficial for you to study, yes," he says. "But we can always arrange for an advisor to help you with the administration of the clan. It's a shame your brother is leaving…"

"We're more concerned about the future of the clan," the Hard Master says.

I clench my jaw. So they wanted my brother to be the real leader of the clan, with me as a figure head… it explains why they pretend not to care that he has surpassed me and why they are so disappointed he is leaving. The Hard Master is trying to give me more training time in the hope that I will fill in the gap left by my brother a bit more adequately, while being convinced I won't. It's no wonder he is in such a bad mood and, as he just admitted, worried for the future.

"An advisor would be the one that is truly in charge," I remark.

"Only if you wish him to be," the Soft Master says. "I assure you, the fate of the clan under YOUR leadership is not at all what causes us concern right now. We simply want you to be happy. Have time to… socialize."

I snarl before I can help myself. The idea that they are concerned for my happiness, of all things, is beyond ridiculous.

"How can you say that?" I growl. "How can you pretend to care for my happiness while forcing me to do something I hate day in and day out?"

They both look like they're about to answer something but I keep talking. I've heard enough out of them.

"I've worked out the average, you know, to figure out how much training time I could get in. For the past year, I've been on missions for an average of 17 hours a day. With one hour of training, which is what you're going to say I'm supposed to be doing, this still leaves me only six hours to sleep, study and everything else you might want me to do! You have kept me on this schedule for over two years now. Don't insult me by pretending to care about my happiness!" I'm about to continue on to the subject of how they obviously prefer my brother over me, to the point of wanting him to be the true leader of the clan, but the Soft Master cuts me off.

"That's precisely why we need to reduce the time you spend on missions. We also feel this has gone on too long already. But our efforts will be wasted if you use every bit of free time training, futilely trying to catch up to your brother."

"I'm doing my best," I snarl. The ringing in my ear is getting worse again, and if not for the fact I'm sure it would hurt, I'd be screaming at them both by now.

"We know," the Soft Master quickly replies, cutting off the Hard Master, who looks like he was going to say something much less friendly. "Remember what we told you already: it is no fault of your own that you cannot catch up to your brother for now. You should not worry about what you cannot change."

"Then what do you want from me? What will it take for you not to rent me to clients like this again?"

"You should think carefully before you make this request," the Hard Master says, "accepting such clients would gain you back some freedom."

I don't need to think.

"I'd rather have no freedom at all than work for someone like that again!" I cry. "You want me to officially request it, do you? Fine. I hereby request for my services never to be s… rented to scum like that again, no matter what they're willing to pay."

The Soft Master sighs and shakes his head. The Hard Master scowls. I stalk out before they have time to add anything.

I suppose I should be glad they won't sell me to anyone like that again, but I'm seething. My ears are hurting like mad, the buzzing won't stop, and I have just found out that my uncles are conspiring to make my brother the real head of the clan. They have discarded me and they were trying to make a brainless mercenary out of me.

Yet the part I'm the most angry about is that even if I were to receive an offer to join another clan right this moment, I wouldn't even hesitate before I turned it down, and my uncles know it.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

I tend to get carried away by dialogues. Can you guess what it is that the uncles should have spelled out? There are a few hints, but if Tommy ever figures it out, it won't be for a while. He's going to have more pressing concerns very soon.

About the jewel: as far as I know, this only appears in Arashikage showdown. I rather like magical things, so I threw it in. I think this story makes a lot more sense if the clan has a purpose other than just making money. It provides the motivation for the way some of the characters are acting and will act later on. In particular, the Hard Master and the Soft Master would be pretty rotten to keep the clan going by enslaving their nephew if going out of business was an option. It's also behind their current concern regarding their nephew.

That being said, whatever power the jewel may have will not surface. For all intents and purposes, it has no power other than the influence it has on the actions of the Arashikage.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

My mood improves gradually over the next 6 days, as my hearing returns to mostly normal. I can still only hear about half as well as I should, but it's enough to make out people's heartbeats and breathing if they're fairly close by. More importantly, the buzzing is gone, replaced by an occasional high pitched whistle. I've spent the last two days trying not to jump every time I hear it because it sounds just like an arrow heading just shy of my right side, from behind me. It's annoying, but not nearly as much as the constant buzz was.

I've cooled down enough to realize I didn't actually let my uncles tell me everything they wanted to and that I may have over-reacted a little. I'm even questioning my conclusion that they wish for my brother to be the factual leader of the clan.

I'm heading back to my apartments after a bodyguard mission when I hear some noise in the Hard Master's dojo and change my heading, curious. He doesn't usually teach into the night and it is past midnight. I'm intent on knocking on the door right away and just make sure everything is all right – pointing out I'm coming back in the middle of the night being just a bonus - but what I hear stops me dead in my tracks.

The Hard Master just asked someone – Chatterbox, since he's the only one in there apart from my two uncles – whether he'd reconsider, to help lead the clan.

To think I've spent the last few days convincing myself I had been jumping to conclusions about my uncles wanting to make Chatterbox the true head of the clan… I can't actually blame the Hard Master: my brother IS an obvious choice to lead the clan.

Still, I feel betrayed. Why didn't the Hard Master formally warn me first? Why hasn't my brother refused yet? Would status change his mind about leaving? Or is he really so disgusted with my seeing ear training that he would take the head of the clan just to deprive me of it?

I'm so shocked that I've lost track of the conversation, but I do notice when the sound of my two uncles and my brother turns into the sound of one uncle, my brother and a rather good imitation of him. I can't help actively listening again: I want to know whether my brother will be able to recognize himself, and I try to convince myself that I'm not dearly hoping he will not. The last thing I need right now is for him to suddenly become good at my specialty.

My brother can't guess, and the Hard Master chuckles.

I suddenly realize I've gone from accidentally hearing a private conversation to eavesdropping on a private lesson. I clench my teeth and decide to make my presence known: I'm not looking forward to the confrontation, but it would be dishonest, at this point, not to let them know I have heard the Hard Master's offer.

I march towards the door, trying to look righteously angry and sure of myself, and feeling like a child about to confess a crime. My ears start whistling again and out of habit, I give my head a little shake in a futile attempt to stop the whistling.

The whistling doesn't stop, but the pitch changes gradually. My eyes widen and I throw myself towards the arrow in an effort to catch it: it's going fast enough to go through a wall and it's heading straight for the Hard Master.

I'm much too late. The arrow flies through the wall as though it were paper and with a sickening thud, reaches its target. The heart is pierced, and the imitation of my brother's heartbeat and breathing becomes erratic as my uncle, a man who's had just as much of a hand in raising me as my own father, starts dying. I hear the Soft Master and Chatterbox rush towards him, and I can already tell they won't be able to help.

I take off running in the direction the arrow came from, as fast as I can. Whoever did this is going to pay: all my anger at my uncle has evaporated, replaced by lust for the blood of his murderer. I wish this mission hadn't been under cover – I'd have been carrying all my weapons then, including my bow.

Just as I spot him, and before I can make out any sound he's making, a man in white with an electronically enhanced bow in his hand climbs aboard what looks a bit like a helicopter. The vehicle, unlike any helicopter I've ever seen, takes off silently in an instant. I am left staring at it disappearing above the clouds.

I curse and suddenly realize I may have missed the chance to be by my uncle's side in his final moments – all for nothing since I didn't catch the assassin or even got close enough to identify him. I rush back to the Hard Master's dojo, but the voice of the Soft Master stops me before I even get to the door.

"...could shoot with such precision? Who else would have access to his arrows? The Young Master's guilt would be obvious even if we hadn't seen him running away."

I sink to my knees, stunned.

"Bring him to me, alive or not. The rest of the clan will receive the same instructions," the Soft Master finishes.

His tone leaves me no doubt that if I am indeed brought to him alive, he will kill me the second I arrive. The first thought that strikes me is that if I die, the real murderer will live.

I jump to my feet and run. I can't let my uncle's death go unpunished, and if I let myself be killed before I find the real murderer or at the very least clear my name, that is precisely what will happen.

I don't know whether it was only luck or whether my uncle assisted me from the spirit world, but I manage to escape the compound without being seen.

* * *

My situation sinks in when I stop running.

My uncle has been murdered. The Hard Master is dead, gone. I've lost him, and I've also lost the rest of my family: if I ever see any of them again, they will try to kill me because they are convinced I'm the murderer. I am the only one who knows anything at all about the real assassin, and what I know amounts to next to nothing: my quarry has access to silent helicopters.

In short, I have close to no chance of ever finding the archer, yet I'm the only one who can avenge my uncle because everyone else is going after the wrong person: me.

I spend the rest of the night doing not much more than feeling sorry for myself, roaming the streets because I don't dare stop moving and rest.

* * *

The next three days are a daze. I feel like I've been spending most of my energy just not falling apart. I've narrowly escaped members of my clan three times in the past 48 hours. Two of those times, it was my brother I had to hide from.

My pain has mutated into cold rage, and although I want nothing more to do with what is left of my family, I'm even more determined to kill the man responsible than I was the night my uncle was murdered. For one thing, the recent actions of the rest of the family are no fault of his and he deserves to be avenged. Secondly, I crave vengeance for myself as well. Finally, I want to clear my name so I can refuse it to them when my uncle and my brother beg for my forgiveness.

* * *

On the fourth morning after my uncle's death, I wake up in a refuge. I don't even remember falling asleep, and much less seeking shelter. I can only assume that some stranger found me passed out on the street and brought me here.

Until, that is, I notice a small note stuck to my chest. I unstick it and I have to read it four times before the reality of it fully hits me.

The note is short: "My debt is paid." It is signed, uselessly since I recognize his hand, by my brother.

He was the one who found me, but instead of killing me in my sleep or bringing me to the Soft Master, he brought me here, sparing my life. The debt he is referring to is from when I saved his life in the war. The important part of the message is that I'm only alive because he wanted to pay his debt - which is now done - and that he has nothing at all to say to me other than that.

The fact he left a note at all means he wanted me to know he didn't owe me anything anymore. Succinct as it is, the note, by its very presence, is an official disowning and a death threat, all wrapped in four words.

"My debt is paid."

I wanted to kill you, but I owe you my life. Now that I've spared you, I owe you nothing anymore. I have nothing else to say to you because you are not my brother, not my friend. You are nothing but a murderous traitor, and the next time we meet, I WILL kill you.

I snarl at the note and rip it to shreds. That settles it. I will never forgive this false brother, no matter how much he begs me.

* * *

Even though it almost cost me my life, sleeping has at least cleared my head enough for me to figure out my next move. I need to find out who owns noiseless helicopters and would use them for murder.

I leave the refuge and walk to the nearest library. I sit at one of the computers and start searching.

It turns out the silent helicopters will be a surprise to everyone: all I can find is talks of prototypes and hopes that a working one will be completed sometimes in the next decade.

I start looking for rumours on secret technology belonging to major world governments. It seems to me that if anybody has technology nobody knows exists yet, it is likely to be the government of one of the most advanced countries. It takes me a while, but I finally find a reference to the helicopters, although it isn't quite the one I expected.

If you believe the conspiracy theorists, there was one prototype built, and it was stolen by Cobra a few weeks back. I give the screen such a glare that I scare the person sitting next to me, who hurriedly leaves.

Cobra is the name of the hissing man's organization. The same man who tried to make me kill soldiers and who caused my ear injury is the one who framed me for the murder of my uncle. I can't imagine why he'd be so stupid as to make me his enemy and at this point, I don't care: as far as I'm concerned, he's signed his own death warrant and that of whoever he hired to do the actual deed.

I start searching for Cobra, but not surprisingly, they don't advertise themselves on the net. I'm going to have to do this the old fashioned way.

* * *

I spend the rest of the day tracking down and talking to every one of my more colourful acquaintances. Being a wage earner for a clandestine ninja clan does put one in contact with some interesting characters, and most of them I wouldn't trust with a pet rock. I tell them all the same thing: I am looking for Cobra, but they cannot tell anyone. They all swear to me that they have never heard of Cobra and that they will not communicate my whereabouts to my clan.

The flip side of this plan is that I have to keep dodging members of my clan, who are constantly getting tipped off as to where I am. The good side is that by night-time, a man clumsily tries to shove me into a car bearing the Cobra logo. I get in the car of my own accord, he stays on the pavement with three broken bones for his trouble.

My once client is in the car, wearing the same smooth metal mask as before. With him is another masked man. This new man's mask is metal as well, but shaped to imitate a face. I'm not sure which mask I find creepier.

Both men have their weapons aimed straight at me. I make myself comfortable and stare at them, doing my best to hide any emotion – specifically, the urge to rip them apart. I need to get the name of the actual assassin first.

"You have been looking for us, Mr. Ninja," my old client says.

I nod.

"You want to know who killed your uncle," he continues.

"Do you have that information?" I ask him. I know he does but I play dumb. He's not likely to tell me anything if he realizes that I hunted him with the knowledge he is responsible for the whole thing.

"Yes," he confirms, "and I am the only one who does."

"Was he acting under your orders when he killed the Hard Master?" I ask.

The man hesitates. Perhaps because he thinks their guns can protect him, he eventually answers.

"Not quite," he says. "I did send him, but he killed the wrong man. The student was the intended target, which I don't suppose endears me to you anymore than if I really had targeted your uncle."

I shrug. I'm so angry with my brother right now that I honestly don't care. I cannot forgive him for thinking me a murderer and for trying to bring me to my uncle to be summarily executed. I saved his life in the war, I invited him here, and he's repaid me by replacing me in my uncles' hearts and by hunting me.

"As I was saying, I am the only person who knows who your uncle's murderer is. Even he," he nods towards his companion, "doesn't know."

I roll my eyes. I'm not interested in playing games.

"Tell me who did it," I demand. "You do not want me as an enemy."

The fact that I'm being incredibly hypocritical in leading him to think he might survive this barely touches my mind. He deserves nothing better.

"Indeed I don't," the man replies. I can hear the smile in his voice and it sends a chill down my spine.

"I will deliver the killer to you," he continues. "For a price."

To get my quarry, I'm quite ready to steal whatever amount of money he wants. It's not like he's going to have the time to enjoy it much.

"Name your price," I say.

"Well, you see, that man is a valuable asset to my organization."

The other man nods.

"Name your price," I repeat in a snarl.

The man chuckles. I shiver, causing his companion to chuckle too. His mask molds his face so closely that the metal moves like flesh.

"The price is your soul," my former client says. "Oh dear, that sounds so melodramatic, doesn't it? I do apologize, it's just one of these things I've always wanted to say."

He starts laughing, but I have a nasty feeling he is absolutely serious.

"What do you mean?" I ask him.

He stops laughing just as abruptly as he started.

"I want you to work for me. You are a prodigy, thought to be the best in your generation right until your former friend bested you. I do not normally settle for second best, but in this case, I'm willing to make an exception."

I swallow and clench my teeth. I absolutely do not want to do anything that would benefit him or his organization. At the same time, I can't just let go. I need to know who the killer was. I need to avenge my uncle and I need vengeance for myself. I can't be satisfied with the killer's employer only, especially now that I know said employer never targeted my uncle in the first place. Blood for blood: the archer who impersonated me to murder the Hard Master HAS to die.

"He'd prefer to keep running until his family finds and kills him," the second man says, interrupting my thoughts. "Your associate will be relieved: with this kid gone, he'll be home free. Nobody else even suspects the 'Young Master' was framed."

The speech is obviously prepared, but the point is made anyway.

"You think I cannot possibly find the murderer without your help," I say, trying to sound amused.

"What does it matter what I think?" the hissing man says, laughing again. "The question is, what do YOU think?"

What I think is that I'm doomed either way. I've only caught a glimpse of the killer's shape, and I didn't hear him. He was in his helicopter by the time I was close enough to pick up his heartbeat and once he was inside, all noise coming from him had stopped, blocked by whatever it is that makes the helicopter silent.

I wouldn't recognize him if I bumped right into him.

What's more, my only clue led me to an organization that employs or contracts out to thousands of criminals: I have absolutely no way to know which one of those thousands is the one I want, and I have no intention of spending the rest of my life futilely trying to track down and assassinate every last one of them. I'd never find the right one, especially not while running from my clan, especially not in what limited time I may have until they catch me. My choices come down to giving up on vengeance and on my life, or accepting Cobra's offer. If it was only my life, I'd choose to preserve my honour and refuse, but I cannot give up on vengeance. I cannot let my uncle's murderer go unpunished.

"Tell me more," I say.

"I want five years of unrelenting loyalty," he hisses. "You will do everything I ask, without hesitation, and you will be my personal bodyguard. You will value my life more than your own, and you will put no value at all on any other life than my own. Not even those of my associates. I want complete devotion and I want it for me alone."

"Your price is too high," I say. I put my hand on the door handle, intent on jumping out and hoping they shoot me before I do. If I'm going to die without getting my revenge, I'd like it to be as soon as possible and I'd much rather it be at the hands of someone else than my own family.

"I never said we could not negotiate at all," the man says.

I turn to him and wait. My hand is still on the handle.

"Let's start with what YOU want," he says.

I don't need to think very long to find one condition that would make serving him merely miserable rather than intolerable. I tell him. He rolls his eyes.

"For crying out loud, you're a bloody ninja! Whatever. Fine," he says. "I have plenty of men who can do that. But it does make you much less valuable. Half less, I would say. Ten years."

I can't pretend the delay doesn't bother me, but having the killer in ten years still beats never having him. I let go of the handle and sit back down.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Fans of the Marvel Comic Books will have noticed a rather big diversion here: rather than join Cobra with the hopes of climbing in ranks and eventually being deemed trustworthy enough to have access to the information he seeks, Storm Shadow will be on a very well defined contract.

I think within the context of this story, this alternative is more believable. For one thing, I can't imagine my particular version of Storm Shadow having enough patience to wait indefinitely. He'd need to know exactly when he'll get what he wants to stick with Cobra.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_\- Eight years later -_

_I sit down on the bench, or rather, I collapse on it. It's the first time I stop moving since I escaped from the compound after hearing the Soft Master sentence me to death. I think that was three days ago._

_I don't remember ever being so tired – I've been awake for days at a time before, but running from my own family, not knowing when I'll be able to stop, adds a new level of exhaustion. My mind is running circles, trying to figure out what I should do. I need to avenge my uncle, which means I have to stay alive and find who framed me, but how do I do that?_

_My thoughts have grown so disorganized that I don't even notice when they slip into dream. The feel of a blade on my throat wakes me up. I don't move a muscle because I can feel the ropes around me and I can hear the person holding the blade – Chatterbox. My heart sinks. It's over already – I was stupid enough to fall asleep and it will cost me my life and my father's brother any chance of getting justice._

_My life is one thing, but I'm not sure I can forgive myself for failing my uncle like this. He was murdered, and his assassin will continue to run free – will he ever be at peace? Won't the fact I'm about to be killed too, by his favourite student no less, make it even harder for him to move on?_

_I can't stand the thought, so I do the only thing that might still save us both: I beg._

" _Brother, please. I…"_

_He cuts me off by pressing his knife against my throat harder._

" _I'm not going to kill you," he says. "I'm bringing you in. You go right ahead and try those puppy dog eyes on your uncle, see if HE's impressed."_

_He pinches one of my sleeping points, much harder than necessary, and everything goes black._

* * *

_When I come to, I'm facing my uncle. I'm tied up to the Holding Chair in the interrogation room, the room where we used to question captured enemies. Nowadays, it's mostly used for storage, but one of the original features is still there: the chair I'm strapped in. It's bolted to the floor, and designed to be impossible to tear out off or escape from._

_The Soft Master is standing in front of me and glaring at me. I would never have thought he was even capable of looking this heinous._

_"I have been trying to kill you for the past hour," he snarls. "The only reason you are still alive is that part of me still can't believe what you've done. I need answers, and you will give them to me."_

_He picks up a needle from the top of a nearby box. It's opaque, so I can't see what's inside, but I'm dearly hoping it's our confession serum - a powerful truth serum that also removes inhibitions. We use it to force the guilty to confess not only to their past crimes but also to their intentions and their feelings towards different individuals. If the Soft Master injects me with that, he'll have no choice but to believe me when I insist I didn't shoot the arrow that killed his brother._

_The Soft Master stabs me in the chest with the needle, looking like he's using it as a surrogate to stabbing me with a knife. He certainly smiles when I gasp._

_He enjoyed hurting me._

_I burst into tears, confirming that he did indeed inject me with our confession serum. His smile turns into a puzzled frown and I cry harder. I hate when he frowns, it reminds me of the Hard Master. The thought strikes me that this is the closest I'll ever get to seeing the Hard Master frown again and I scream._

_"Stop," the Soft Master orders me. "Calm down."_

_Even in my current state, I can't disobey him. I start breathing deeply until I'm somewhat calm again._

_"Did you shoot the arrow that killed my brother?" he asks. He makes it sound like asking this is a formality, something to get out of the way before he gets to the interesting questions._

_I start crying again, but this time, I just manage to keep it under control long enough to answer._

_"No," I sob._

_I expected him to look shocked and sorry. He looks puzzled again, like he's wondering if I'm lying despite the drug. I lose what little calm I had managed._

_"NO!" I screech, pulling at my chains in an effort to get free, even though I know I won't get anywhere. "I didn't! How can you even think that? Don't you know how much everybody laughs at me for being so loyal? I'd NEVER hurt my own family!"_

_I stop for breath. He just looks at me, still frowning. He doesn't believe me. Even with the drug, he doesn't believe me. I'm so discouraged that I start crying again. I'm starting to really hate this serum._

_"You know I wouldn't," I sob. "And you told everyone to kill me! How am I supposed to get revenge for the Hard Master if I'm dead? If you won't believe me, your brother will never be avenged. I hope he haunts you for the rest of your life! We'll keep each other company, and we'll argue all the time, as loud as we can, just to…"_

_I can't finish the sentence, I'm sobbing too much. I curse at the drug and at my uncle, not that there's any chance he could make out the blubber that comes out of me._

_"Are you done? You can yell at me some more if you'd like," he says, sitting down heavily on a box. His tone is so calm that it has a calming effect on me. I stop crying, or enough so to be able to talk again, anyway. I look at him. His eyes are wet._

_I'm not sure why he's upset. I'd like to think it's because he's finally figured out he accused me wrongly, but I'm afraid it's just because he thinks the drug is not working properly._

_"I didn't do it!" I insist. "I swear I didn't! I didn't hear the arrow in time because of my ears. I told you about the whistling. You made fun of me for it when you saw me jump a couple of times. You called me paranoid," I say in an almost normal, if shamefully whiny, voice._

_He nods._

_"I know," he says with a broken voice. "I know you didn't. I should have known all along. I'm sorry. Oh, Tommy, I'm so sorry."_

* * *

I wake up groaning and flip my soaked pillow. I get this dream several times a month.

I know better than to expect to be able to control my emotions in a dream – especially one where I'm drugged - but I still don't like the fact my brain feels the need for me to let loose and lose control like that on a regular basis.

Also, the dream just irritates me, mostly because in its own twisted way, it speaks the truth: this is all Chatterbox's fault. If he'd brought me to the Soft Master instead of hiding me away in a refuge, I would almost certainly have been able to convince my uncle, someway somehow, that I was innocent, and everything would have been all right. There would have been a small chance that the Soft Master would have killed me without hearing me out, which is why I could never, in good conscience, turn myself in, but it's more likely I would have been able to talk to him. By trying to show me mercy, Chatterbox condemned me.

My alarm rings and I glare at it. The Commander told me yesterday that I was to be his bodyguard today, like most days.

It's not that I mind protecting him as such: it's a necessary evil that he be kept alive until he gives me the name of my uncle's murderer. I see it as strictly temporary each time I prevent his death.

What I do mind is that protecting him implies being with him all day. I had hoped, when I first agreed to this ten year contract, that I'd get used to him. Instead, he's grown even more intolerable than he was when he hired me for a day.

I can't stand his stupid hissing. I cringe every time he laughs. I hate what he does, and the fact he usually does it in the silliest way possible irritates me to no end. I despise his various associates, for a variety of reasons in addition to the fact they're plain evil. In addition to all that, I found out shortly after joining Cobra that my being blamed for the death of my uncle was no accident – I was framed quite intentionally, on his instructions. Needless to say, this new piece of information only strengthened my resolve to eventually give him a particularly painful death.

I scrape myself off my bed, shower, put on my uniform and drag myself to the Commander's chambers. He greets me like I'm his best friend and starts chattering away, leading me to the meeting hall where he has scheduled a speech to his troops.

My contract with him calls for my complete loyalty, so I have to at least pretend I don't mind. I give monosyllabic answers when absolutely required, and as usual, start hoping for someone to attack him and give me something to do. On most days, nothing happens and by the time I'm released, I'm just about ready to claw my own ears off. This relative quiet is due to the fact that after being chased around the world by the military, Cobra went into a bit of stand-by mode which the world has chosen to interpret as a sign Cobra had been crippled. In actuality, Cobra has been gathering funds and an army.

We still do get the occasional offensive against us. We used to get bombed regularly, but the fortress can withstand the strongest blasts. Nowadays, we mostly get commandos trying to find a flaw in our defences. Today, for instance, a small group of soldiers from GI Joe, the special American military unit created specifically to deal with Cobra, manages to blunder right into the meeting hall. They look understandably surprised when they see all of us, confirming that they thought they were breaking into an empty part of the fortress. Like many other groups before them, they were fooled by the sound absorbers and heat masks installed in the outside walls – they couldn't hear us, and their heat vision equipment showed nothing.

Eight years ago, when Cobra Commander first hired me, I put as the only condition of my service to him that I would not harm innocents, and I've held to it (something made easier by the fact we're not doing all that much), but my definition of innocence is not nearly as broad as it used to be. The Joes are a good example of this: my younger self would have counted them as innocents for the sole reason that they are the "good guys". I've grown less naïve since.

The Joes are enemy troops, no different than the ones I fought in the war. If I refused to fight them, I would be allowing them to bring Cobra down and ruin any chance of finding my uncle's murderer. I've decided a long time ago that anybody who stood in the way of my vengeance was not an innocent but an enemy.

I still don't like being directly involved in Cobra's dealings with them. Part of me is still clinging to the notion that ultimately, I'd be more inclined to be on their side. Thankfully, over the past eight years, I've gotten quite good at ignoring this part of me.

That, combined with the fact that the Commander usually stops talking to me when I'm fighting, is why I don't hesitate to attack them.

Besides, if I don't, someone else will. By coming here, they've pretty well sealed their faith. Granted, seeing the Commander doesn't like his troops being armed when in his presence, there are only maybe ten people in the whole hall who are armed right now, but that's still more than enough to dispose of six soldiers.

The Joes start shooting at me before I even get to them. I respond in kind with some shurikens, aiming for their weapons. One of my shurikens jams one of the guns just as its owner fires it and the stupid thing explodes, taking out a chunk of the soldier holding it. His heartbeat becomes erratic and he goes down screaming. I turn my attention to his friends, who, judging by their expression, consider me responsible for this injury.

They don't trust the guns I've hit anymore, but one of them takes another one out and shoots at me – I'm so close that I barely manage to duck under the bullet. I kick the gun out of his hands and in the same motion, unsheathe my katana and slice him in half – it's pure reflex: he almost killed me, I killed him.

I curse under my breath. I've been raised to show no mercy to anyone who attacks me, and I have no problem doing that. If you try to hurt me or someone I care about, you give up your right to live – fair is fair. The part I hate about fighting soldiers who make it here is that technically, these soldiers attacked Cobra, not me and certainly not anyone I care about. Ideally, I'd drive them away without casualties.

Obviously, you can't always have your ideal scenario. I don't think the one who lost part of his arms and of his torso will live much longer, so that's two Joes down, and technically, I murdered them.

I clench my jaw and concentrate on the fight. It's the same story every time soldiers attack; I always start berating myself even though deep down, I know it's ridiculous. I don't have any choice but to answer when they attack Cobra – if I didn't, I'd lose all chances of ever avenging the Hard Master, and that is simply not an option. Once I've engaged them and they start trying to kill me instead of running, whatever I do is just self-defence.

Just the same, it's time to give them an out. If they don't take it, I'll have to kill the remaining four Joes. I spot that one of them is trying to fight with his fists and I give him an opening while directing non-lethal attacks at the other three. He takes it and his fist makes contact with the bit of my back I exposed to him, much harder than I expected.

My eyes immediately start watering, and I don't have to fake a groan. I add to it by crumbling, holding my back. I get back up in time to see them running to the exit. The Commander is screaming at me to catch them, so I make a show of limping towards them. I think the hit has broken my ribs, which is convenient since it will make my reaction to the injury more believable.

The Joes escape, and with nobody other than myself both close to the door and ready for action, there's no point trying to pursue. I hear a boat start its engine and take off before the Commander makes his way to me. I don't need to see his face to know he's glaring at me.

This is usually the time where I ask myself what is wrong with me for taking the chance he'll decide I betrayed him and refuse to ever hold his end of our deal, or extend our contract by several years. Today is no different.

It always seems so obvious while I'm fighting them… I give them a chance to escape before I kill all of them, or any of them when we're lucky, because if they don't take the opportunity to run, I can at least silence that nagging part of me that says they never attacked me and that I'm murdering them. In the middle of the fight, I'm only concerned about ending it with as little blood as possible.

In the few instances where they don't miss the opportunity to escape alive, reality comes crashing back once the fight is over in the form of the Commander being seriously pissed at my poor performance. I've got to stop doing this – he's bound to break our agreement sooner or later. And when he does, what will I do? I could kill him, I suppose, but that would mean never getting my hands on my uncle's murderer. I can't risk it.

"Storm Shadow," he hisses. "Explain yourself."

"You're safe, aren't you?" I groan. Now that my adrenaline levels are back to normal, it hurts to talk.

"You let that muscle head hit you," he snarls. "I know you did. You were sorry when that gun exploded and you only killed that other Joe out of reflex. You let yourself be hit to allow them a chance to escape. I've been suspecting you were pulling that kind of stunt before but this is no suspicion this time," he continues, pointing to his current favourite mad scientist, Doctor Mindbender. "The good Doctor has been monitoring your thoughts."

I feel the blood drain from my face. He's probably bluffing about the thought monitoring, but it is possible he's not. Either way, how he found out what I was thinking doesn't really matter – what does is that he obviously knows he's right on everything he just said. Thankfully, I still have one card to play, although I know it will only work this once.

"Your orders for today were to protect you," I say. "I did. You never ordered me to kill anybody who came here. There was no tactical advantage to killing more of them, so I have not disobeyed you or harmed your organization in any way. Therefore, I haven't been disloyal."

He says nothing for a moment. He'll either laugh, in which case I'm out of trouble until the next time someone attacks him (he's not likely to forget to explicitly request I kill them ever again), or start screaming, in which case I'm doomed.

He starts laughing, and for once, I don't mind the sound.

* * *

**Author's note:**

8 years later!

Yep. Not much happens in 8 years, other than the same kind of stuff that is going to happen in the next few chapters. I could have written a slow evolution from refusing to kill any American soldier to killing them whenever it's convenient, rationalizing that it's not his fault so long as he gives them the slightest chance of escape, but… well, it would have been slow and we would all have fallen asleep a lot.

Things will evolve faster for Storm Shadow in the next few months of story time than they did for those 8 years. Thus the skip.

If you've read this far, thank you and please comment! 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_"The thing about growing up with Fred and George […] is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."_

– _Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, chapter 29._

* * *

Thankfully, there hasn't been any more of this kind of break-ins for weeks. Being the Commander's bodyguard has devolved into an even bigger waste of time and the safer he feels, the better his mood and the more incredibly annoying he is. I've caught myself daydreaming about strangling him a few times, but at least, I haven't had to kill any more soldiers.

Still, I much prefer when he sends me off to steal something, like today. Being a common thieve doesn't exactly make me swell with pride, but it's much better than enduring him all day and potentially hurting or killing others for his sake.

He never sends me to rob banks – I think he finds it too common. He goes after museum and art pieces, which he resells or arranges to have returned for the reward. Today, he wants a particular painting by Van Gogh, currently on loan by the Federal Gallery. I'm staring at it now, pretending to be a tourist, complete with a camera dangling from my neck, an oversized sun hat, sunglasses and even a Hawaiian print shirt.

The glass case the painting is in is wired, judging by the faint electrical buzz and the simple fact that it's plugged into a secure outlet. It's also in an alcove equipped with retractable bars that I assume will be at best difficult to cut through. The Gallery itself, after closing, will be locked tight and crawling with guards.

By contrast, there is currently only one guard in the whole area and he's eyeing a group of high school kids at the other end of the room; the bars of the alcove are up to allow visitors to view the painting properly and the place is full of visitors who will impede the reinforcements that are sure to come rushing in when I trip the alarm on the glass case from doing much to stop me.

All in all, it makes much more sense to steal this now than wait for tonight. All I'm missing is an effective exit strategy. I can try to run, or I can take a hostage and walk out.

I'd prefer not to hide behind someone else, so I'm going to run. There is no window in the room, and only one door, which will likely be shut and locked automatically by the alarm, unless of course I trigger the fire alarm first. Outside this door is the main hallway, with the emergency staircase just a few steps to the left.

I tap the case with my fingernail to determine if it's tempered – I doubt it but I may as well make sure. It's not, which will make things a bit easier – not that they really need to be.

I put plugs in my ear and throw a smoke bomb at the nearest smoke detector. People start to scream when they see the smoke and hear the alarm. The combined noise is a bit loud for comfort, even with my earplugs.

I break the painting's protective case by tapping it with the handle of my knife. It's only meant to keep the dust and greasy fingers out while not distorting what's inside, not for protection: it shatters. However, thanks to the relatively gentle tap, the glass doesn't fly towards the painting, crumbling to the floor instead.

I grab the painting and start for the door. I have to sidestep and jump over some of the visitors, but I'm in the hallway without notable trouble. The guard yells at me to stop and runs after me. I throw a couple of shurikens right in front of his feet and predictably, he stops running.

I run down the staircase to the ground floor and find myself outside, in the parking lot of the Federal Gallery. From there, I duck into the nearest alley and stop long enough to stuff the painting in a garbage bag I brought for that specific purpose. I add in my hat, camera, glasses and Hawaiian shirt, take out my earplugs and casually start walking back to Cobra's local outpost, a pawn shop situated at the other end of town. I'll start running again if I'm recognized or pursued, but otherwise, walking is less likely to attract attention and as a bonus, I can enjoy my day out for longer.

I don't encounter anyone who even takes a second glance at me or my package. At the pawn shop, a limousine is waiting for me. I climb in and turn on the TV, curious as to whether I've made the news.

I did, as it so happens. A reporter is talking about the theft on the very channel the TV happens to be on, describing it as if it were the crime of the century. I roll my eyes, more at myself for turning the idiot box on than anything else, and shut the thing down. For crying out loud, it's just an old painting and even though I stole it in front of witnesses, nobody got hurt. It's barely worth a news story, there is really no need to make it sound like an extraordinary event.

* * *

The next few weeks see a marked increase in criminal activities for Cobra and I find myself reminding the Commander every day that he has agreed to my condition when we made our deal. He makes a show of rolling his eyes and sighing every time this happens, making me suspect he jut gets a kick out of it.

I suppose he might as well get _something_ out of me. All I do for him is protect him and steal for him, both of which he could easily get someone else to do. He hasn't even been in any real danger: there have been attempts on his life, but they have been pathetic. I take comfort in having been made to keep him alive from the fact a trained monkey would have done just as good a job.

It's too bad I can't actually get a trained monkey to fill in for me. Lately, he has me following him EVERYWHERE. To make things worse today, he's in a good mood: he's even been joking with his troopers and much to my annoyance, trying to make me laugh.

I finally find out what he's up to at dinner time, when Destro walks in and announces that everything is set for his announcement. The Commander immediately gets up, abandoning his supper.

"Wonderful! Storm Shadow, come with me. You should witness this."

The metal molding Destro's eyebrows lift.

"Commander? Wouldn't you prefer to do this alone?" he asks.

When I first arrived, he used to whisper to the Commander when he didn't want me to hear, but he eventually figured out I could hear him better than the Commander could when he did that. He's since learned to just speak in tongues, much like he's doing now. I stay in my chair, hoping against reason that Destro will succeed at convincing the Commander not to drag me along. I don't know why he doesn't want me to come along and I don't care. He's no threat: the Commander is his best client and he'd never risk seeing Cobra falling under the control of someone less inclined to buy his weapons.

The Commander laughs at the suggestion. I hold back a sigh and get up to follow them.

"Commander, I'm not sure…" Destro says.

"Destro, if you keep insisting I leave my bodyguard behind, I will stop finding it merely funny and start becoming suspicious very quickly. I know what's going on between you and the Baroness, and I know how far I can trust HER."

He falls just short of sounding serious. Like me, the Commander knows Destro is too smart to kill the goose with the golden eggs. Destro glares at the Commander, shrugs and walks ahead, leading the way.

We go into the Command Centre, which is rigged up to put the Commander through on the direct, 24 hours lines to the leaders of the most advanced countries of the World. These are the lines their staff can use when they need to contact their leaders urgently, at any hour of the day.

The Commander sits himself in the only chair in the room, which comes complete with a series of buttons the Commander can use to launch weapons or to open communication lines.

He presses one of the buttons and a series of screens all around the room light up. We hear phones ringing for each of these screens, and it gets loud enough to make my eyes water.

Thankfully, most of the phones are answered within two rings and even the slowest leader picks up after 4 rings.

"Good evening everyone," the Commander greets, blatantly ignoring the fact that most of his interlocutors are in a completely different time zone than we are. The presidents, prime ministers and other officials stare at him and all over one another, demand to know who he is, what's going on and how he got on this line. The Commander lets them vent for about three seconds before gesturing them to stop. The results are mixed, but the Commander starts talking anyway.

"I am the Cobra Commander," he says. His audience is growing quieter with each word, obviously realizing that they can't hear answers to their question if they're still yelling.

"I am calling you this evening with a proposition. You have something I want, and I have something YOU want. Specifically, you have power. I want that."

He pauses, looking for reactions. He gets only puzzled and angry looks. A few of the leaders actually declare something along the line of "we don't negotiate with terrorists" and hang up. I'm guessing the other ones are staying on the line solely to give their security or intelligence a chance to locate the call – not that it's going to work or that it would matter if it did.

"And I," he says, pausing theatrically, "I have security. You, and your people, all want that, right? So! Here are my terms: you give me your power, I give you security. I'm sure you're familiar with this type of deal; it's a very popular business model."

I can't help rolling my eyes. It's a popular model, all right. Even school yard bullies can pull off a protection racket. The leaders aren't any more impressed than I am and proceed to say so, with various degrees of decorum or rudeness.

"Now, now." The Commander cuts them off. "I realize I need to demonstrate that I can deliver what I promise. Mr. Russia, you were quite rude just then." He pushes a button and sits back. Another screen lights up, a satellite image that zooms on Moscow.

I catch Destro glancing at me, I detect the Commander's heart and breathing accelerating in anticipation, and suddenly, I understand what is going on. The Commander is demonstrating his weapon, and he's already launched it. I have no idea how powerful it is, and at this point, I can't do anything about it. I try to make myself believe it's only going to destroy one building or landmark, and I can't take my eyes off the screen.

From the satellite shot, it looks like a small luminous dot that suddenly appears on the roof of a building identified on screen only as "Russian Target".

"What you're all seeing now is a satellite shot of a randomly selected building in Moscow. To be frankly honest with you, I don't actually know what it is. If you're lucky, Mr. Russia, it's abandoned. Otherwise…"

I clench my jaw. Part of me wants to try and stop him, but I don't. He's not even touching any button anymore, nor does he look like he intends to. It's painfully obvious that whatever his weapon does, it only needs one command to do it, and the Commander has already given that command. In other words, the thing is just charging up.

Confirming my guess, the dot suddenly expands to about 100 times its former size, covering the whole building and small chunks of its neighbours, with no prompt from the Commander. The explosion is heard from the location of the Russian Prime Minister, who turns white and whips around, obviously looking out a window.

He turns back towards his phone just long enough to hang up. The Commander flicks the signal back to himself and addresses the world leaders again. I'm not focused enough to know what he's saying. I'm not sure I'd understand him any better if he were speaking Japanese. I'm going back and forth between thinking this will make the Commander public enemy number one and make it uncomfortably likely he will be neutralized before he gives me the information he owes me, and thinking that he might have just killed hundreds of people, just to be taken seriously, and that I've been helping to keep him alive for eight years.

I snap out of the cycle when he says my name. I notice all the monitors are off.

"That went wonderfully well," he says once I'm looking at him. He doesn't seem surprised by my reaction to his little stunt.

"You're…" I start, intending to call him a monster.

He cuts me off.

"The things money can buy, hmm, Destro? How much did that set me back?" he hisses happily.

Destro coughs.

"Each shot costs about two millions," he says.

The Commander laughs.

"But how much was the weapon?"

"You invested over 10 billions over the past five years," Destro says, sounding irritated. "You paid another billion to actually buy it."

The Commander turns back to me.

"I'm sorry to bore you with accounting details, my dear ninja, but I wanted to let you know just how precious you are. I would never be able to afford this without your financial contributions. Why, that last painting you got for me, the Van Gogh, paid for ten shots all by itself."

My eyes widen and for a second, I forget to breathe. He can't be serious. Paintings aren't worth that much, are they?

"I don't believe you," I say.

"The Van Gogh sold for 25," Destro says, smirking. "But your other fundraising activities make more than that in a month, Commander."

I hear everything he says, but I really don't understand what the Commander's other criminal operations have to do with this. The only thing I do understand is that if they're telling the truth, I have financed this shot of the weapon and nine more. If art is worth that much, how much money have I generated for Cobra with the other art pieces I've stolen over the years? The Commander seems to guess what I'm thinking.

"I've kept tab on how much you've brought in since I've hired you, if you're curious," he says.

Destro rolls his eyes – or at least he moves his head as though he has, it's impossible to tell with his mask – and leaves. "Oh fine, be that way," he mutters on the way out. "Break your toy."

I clench my jaw, realizing he's right: the Commander is playing with me. He's getting his revenge for my not killing everyone who crosses him. At the same time, he doesn't appear to be lying. I'll have to look up on the value of the pieces I remember stealing when I get a chance.

"Let's see…" The Commander says, taking out a notebook. "The total…"

"I don't care," I interrupt him. "I'm not responsible for your actions just because I padded your bank account."

I try to sound like I mean it. He shatters any illusion that I might have managed it by bursting out laughing.

"Of course not," he eventually sniggers.

I say nothing. I want to leave and go break something. I need to think this through – I've done everything I could to limit my contributions to Cobra, to keep the amount of blood on my hands to a minimum. I can't stomach the idea that I've given him that much funds, that I've single-handedly given him the financial means to blow up that building, whatever it was, and nine more. I can't stand the thought of how much more funds I've generated for him by stealing from galleries and museums. Why do people put so much value on things? 25 millions, for a bit of colour on canvas? It just sits there! It doesn't do any good to anybody! How was I supposed to know it was worth that much?

"Although you ARE helping," he continues. "It would be terribly ungrateful of me not to recognize your contribution. Nearly 250 millions to date, after all."

I did not need to hear that. I try to tell myself he's lying and I find that I can't; I believe him. It would be too easy for me to find out about it if he were indeed lying about this – all I'd need to do would be to look up the value of the pieces or even the news archives for the rewards that were offered. Therefore, I believe him. I really wish I didn't.

The Commander bursts out laughing again. The sound drives the shock out of my mind and replaces it with cold fury. He used me. We had an agreement that I would not harm innocents and he danced right around it. And now, he's rubbing my nose in it.

I have never been tender-hearted, I kill my enemies without a second thought. But unlike him, I am not a murderer. I don't take lives for no reason whatsoever – I'm not some blood thirsty barbarian! The Arashikage is not the type of ninja clan who kills from the shadow, at the request of the highest bidder. We have never, in all our history, accepted a single murder contract. It's one of the reasons some of the other clans call us samurai wannabes. They mean it as an insult, but we only see it as their admitting we have more honour then they do.

And now, this. I accepted to work for this man, I stole what he asked me to and I even enjoyed doing it. Predictably, he used the profits to hurt his victims. I couldn't know the scale of the profit, but I have no excuse for closing my eyes to the simple fact that, somehow, whatever money he made from what I stole would go towards killing, be it through buying weapons or people to wield them.

I've shamed myself. I tighten my fists and with a lot of effort, set my mind to analyzing the situation rather than dwell on it. I can't undo what I've done. I need to concentrate on choosing the best way forward.

My needs have not changed. I must avenge my uncle. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I'm even more determined to do so than before. I will not give up after having done so much harm towards my end. The end only justifies the means if it's achieved.

The Commander is still my only possible source of information. I will only find out who my quarry is when he tells me, in less than two years from now if I keep my end of the deal. In other words, I can't leave Cobra or indulge myself in ripping the Commander's guts out with my bare hands just yet.

When our deal is done, I'll do what I need to and figure out how to make amends for my own crimes afterward. Up to date, I figured I'd just join the efforts against Cobra and terrorists in general. I'm no longer sure this will be enough, but what I'll do after my uncle is avenged is irrelevant just now. I'll figure it out later… maybe I'll just let the Soft Master decide.

In the meantime, I will make use of the wake up call I've received today. I walk up to the Commander and stare into his mask. My own deformed reflection glares back at me.

"Congratulations," I snarl, making no attempt to hide my anger. "You've managed to make me act against my resolutions. It won't happen again. Now that I've seen what you do with the money I've been securing for you, I will not help you gain a penny more. I will not steal for you anymore. From now on, I consider theft to fall under what you've agreed I would not be made to do."

"You are such a drama queen!" the Commander laughs. "Fine, fine. No more stealing. I expected as much and besides, Destro is right. When you come right down to it, you were still but a small part of my revenues. From now on, you will simply be my full-time bodyguard, except when I let someone else borrow you."

By someone else, he mostly means Destro. I've been tasked with accompanying him to meetings a few times, to help intimidate various business competitors. The Commander is staring at me, waiting for me to acknowledge his orders.

"Yes, Commander," I say, bowing to him.

"Good. Now, go get whatever you want to bring with you, we're moving out. I'll be here coordinating, so hurry back."

Despite my surprise, I do see it makes perfect sense to leave. We got away with being in a known location before, with relatively few attempts at invasion, simply because for the most part, we were inactive. It wasn't worth it for any nation to send a significant amount of troops here – most of those troops would have gotten killed, whether or not they eventually won the battle.

Now that we have officially made ourselves a world-level threat, it's time to move to a new, unknown location. If anything, I just wonder why we didn't start moving out before we actually used the satellite weapon.

"Did you just decide this?" I ask curiously. I'm not sure why I care, I suspect I'm just making conversation to keep my mind from wandering back to the destroyed building and my part in it.

He laughs.

"Of course not. I've been getting ready for months. But I couldn't very well let anybody else around here know about it, could I? If we have a mole, the world may have suspected we were up to something and I would have lost the element of surprise."

I should have guessed – the Commander has a way to ruin his own detailed planning with pure paranoia. Planning ahead that we'd have to clear out of here and making whatever preparations he could by himself, without any of the actual labour being carried out because he doesn't trust his own troops, fits him to a T.

"Won't it take days to evacuate?"

"We leave in an hour," he answers. "Now get going. Put your stuff in submarine three, I want you back here in 15 minutes to help with something else."

I shrug and leave. His voice resonates in the base through the intercom as I'm heading for my quarters, hissing instructions to different units on what they're assigned to pack. The assignments are pretty light – by the sounds of it, we're leaving just about everything behind.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Sorry about the awkward stop, I'm running into the same problem as for the first few chapters: this scene is just too long, I needed to split it in order to preserve my shrinking buffer. I almost split it right after the theft, but that was just too short.

About the quote at the beginning: it was in my head while I was writing the theft scene. It seems to me like a good philosophy for a ninja to have.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

I'm back in the Command Centre 15 minutes later and the Commander sits me at one of the computers with a USB drive, a list of files to copy and the instruction to wipe the hard drive clean afterward. The Crimson Twins are grumpily doing much the same thing on two other computers, along with several higher ranking troopers.

"I really don't think any potential mole…" Tomax starts, letting his sentence hang in the air for his brother to finish.

They do this ALL the time, and to make it worst, they still haven't got it down quite pat: there is always a bit of a delay before the second brother finishes a sentence.

You'd think their desire to be perfect twins would be satisfied with the fact that thanks to a bit of masochistic genetic engineering, they can actually feel it when the other one gets hurt, but no. They have to show off that they think alike each and every time they talk. Why they so enjoy demonstrating that they share a single brain between the two of them is beyond me.

"…would have found a routine backup suspicious," Xamot eventually finishes.

The Commander snorts.

"And that would be why I'm in charge," he says, putting extra emphasis on the 'I'. "I know better."

* * *

About one hour after the satellite weapon was fired, we're on our way – there are planes approaching, but we're all using advanced stealth vehicles, several of them currently in underwater mode, and although we pass right under some of the approaching invading forces, we're not detected.

On the way, the Commander briefs me on our new base.

Now I must admit that when I first joined Cobra, I was rather impressed that the Commander had managed to procure an island and to build a fortress on it without anyone stopping him. Granted, the location was discovered almost as soon as Cobra became somewhat active, but by then, it was too late – the fortress could resist almost any attack. It would have taken thousands of troops to actually invade us successfully, and it would have been a blood bath – no nation has been willing to go that route yet.

Yet the logistical, planning and covert operations marvel that was Cobra Island doesn't even compare to our new base: Springfield, New York. It has a town's name because to the rest of the world, it is just that: an ordinary town. The actual fortress is underground, accessible only from five entry points, three of which are buried in the sewers and meant as emergency exits only.

The rest of the town was bought one house at a time over the past ten years, ever since the Commander created Cobra. He currently owns, through various dummy companies, nearly 75% of the land and property and rents most of the houses on relatively short leases, that he will now stop renewing in order to move his troops in said houses and out of the fortress proper. Some of the houses he owns are left abandoned, as well as some of the business and industrial property, because they sit on top of missile launchers. Finally, he has a puppet mayor in place, who has the police in his pocket.

In short, Springfield is Cobra Ville. However, as far as the rest of the World knows, it's an innocent town filled with innocent civilians. Even if the fortress is somehow discovered, big scale assaults will remain fairly unlikely because the civilians, both the real ones and our civilian looking troops, will act as human shields.

After a few hours of travel, we dock at the local marina. Needless to say, the marina is run by Cobra and therefore only accepts enrolled members. One of the entrances to the fortress is in the basement 'custodial closet' of the main building.

From there, the Commander goes straight to his new Command Centre. All the computers are already running, and a phone is ringing off the hook. The Commander picks it up with one hand and with the other, grabs a mouse and starts clicking away at his various status screens.

"The Joes are attacking the satellite." Destro says through the phone as soon as the Commander picks it up, without waiting for a greeting. He doesn't sound particularly worried.

"Is the satellite firing back yet?"

"With the defence system that you refused to buy, you mean?" Destro says. He now sounds distinctly amused.

"No!" the Commander snips. "With the defence system that was included with it."

"The one I told you was only good against space debris because any human threat could easily shut it down?"

"Are you telling me the Joes have disabled the weapon's defences?" the Commander hisses.

"They have," Destro confirms.

"Where did they launch from?"

I blink at him, amazed once again by the deviousness of the man. Whether his weapon is destroyed or not, he will at least have managed to make the Joes take off for orbit, and even for the best equipped military unit in the World, it's simply not possible to launch for space discreetly. Our spy satellites will be able to detect the launch, and in all likelihood, we're about to find out where the Pit is.

"From an innocent looking military base that we can assume is actually the Pit," Destro confirms. "I've already sent you the coordinates."

The Commander opens his email and true enough, there is a message from Destro with coordinates and even a satellite view of a benign looking military base, under which we now know we will find the Joe's secret base of operation. The Commander pastes the coordinates into what is obviously a user interface for his weapon and gives the command to fire.

"They're within range of the weapon," Destro says. "Firing at it."

"I'm firing the weapon at the Pit," the Commander says. "It should be charging up… if they destroy it before it actually fires, it should at least blow up nicely and take them with it." He sounds extremely pleased with himself.

"Oh, puh-lease," Destro says. "Do you really think they're THAT stupid? They've deactivated the defences by shutting the thing down. Nothing is going to work."

"Are you telling me my multi-billion dollar satellite laser is a sitting duck?" the Commander screams.

"Was a sitting duck," Destro sniggers. "It is now ground duck meat. I did warn you about not upgrading the security system, Commander. Several times."

"We'll talk about a refund later, Destro," the Commander hisses before hanging up.

It takes all my self control not to burst out laughing from their general childishness and silliness and from the relief of knowing that the Commander won't be using a satellite laser again for at least a little while. I suspect I find the whole thing more amusing than I would if I weren't so keen on keeping my mind away from the events of the past few hours.

* * *

Perhaps because he was not happy about his weapon being destroyed after only one use, it takes weeks before the Commander allows Destro to borrow me again. Even now that he has finally agreed to lend me to his weapon dealer for a night, he came along to Destro's castle, pretending he didn't feel safe in Springfield without me. I'm guessing he actually intends to poke around in the hopes of finding some valuable information.

After waiting this long for my services, I'm expecting Destro to bring me to a very long catch-up meeting with the people he usually doesn't see without having me as backup.

I try not to show my disappointment as I listen to my instructions, but Destro's smile shatters any illusion I might have had on succeeding to deceive him.

"You thought I'd just get you to come with me to a business meeting again, didn't you?" he asks.

There is no point denying it, but at the same time, I can't openly acknowledge reluctance, especially when it comes to doing something against the Joes.

"The Commander has ordered me to do whatever you asked. I will get the girl for you."

Destro barks a laugh.

"Scarlett is hardly a girl," he says. "She's a Joe, and a skilled fighter. Expect resistance."

I bow to acknowledge that I understand and turn to leave.

"Storm Shadow," Destro calls back.

I turn around and do my best to hide my irritation. He's already given me his orders, I've already agreed to carry them out, why must he impose his presence on me any longer?

"In the kidnapping business, the kidnapper is often instructed not to take liberties with the victim by the person who ordered the kidnapping. This is not the case here. I couldn't care less what you do with her."

I feel at once embarrassed, disgusted and furious; I'm guessing even what little skin my mask shows around my eyes is beet red.

"If you keep insulting me like this, I'm bound to lose my self control eventually," I snarl.

"Insult you? I'm being nice! And for your information, I don't intend to put her in a comfy cell and just keep her there for a while with three healthy meals a day. By delivering her to me, you are allowing much worse to happen to her than whatever liberties you may take."

I briefly narrow my eyes at him for the reminder, then clench my jaw and remind myself that she's the enemy and that I simply can't afford to feel any pity for the enemy.

"Is that all?" I ask.

He nods. I hurry out of there and go get a jetpack: they're fast, small thus difficult to detect for the Joe's radars, and most important of all, I can't operate one without being fully concentrated on it, which means that for as long as I'm flying, my mind won't be able to wander.

* * *

The funny thing about the Pit is that the Joes sincerely believe it to be safe. In the weeks since we've found its location, I've been able to discover 10 access points that aren't sufficiently guarded. Five of them don't even require dislocating any of my limbs to squeeze through. I pick the one closest to where Scarlett's quarters are, according to the map Destro provided me with.

Because it's the middle of the night and because the Joes seem unable to admit their precious base is not exactly leak proof, I hear only one patrol. They don't notice me, and after a quick stop by the floor's laundry room, I make it to Scarlett's quarters without problem.

I can hear a sleeping person in the room, whom I assume is her.

If she is as good as Destro claims, she's bound to wake up when she hears me picking the lock, and to be ready to pounce on me or shoot me. It's hardly the ideal scenario: the racket would wake the whole base and I'd probably have to kill or maim several people before I could finally get away with the girl.

Therefore, I take off my mask, position myself so my face is all she'll be able to see from the peephole and knock. I hear her get up and walk to the door.

"What is it?" She says. "Who are you?"

"Sir," I say. "I need you to follow me. The General sent me to get you, sir."

I have no idea whether she's an officer or not, but if she isn't, mistakenly calling her 'sir' will only make me look silly and mildly annoy her. If she is an officer, on the other hand, failing to call her sir could make her suspicious.

"Obviously, you're a rookie. You have three seconds to give me the safe word before I slam this door in your face and proceed to kick your ass."

I position my foot and arm to catch the door.

"Sir? I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't given any safe word. The General asked that you come right away, sir. They think the base has been infiltrated."

The door slams open, only to be blocked by my foot and my arm. I swing it open the rest of the way and before she can scream, I've used her sleep points to knock her out.

I put my mask back on and hand carry her to the laundry room, keeping my ears peeled for any incoming patrol. I can hear two, but one is a floor above and the other one is already not in sight and walking away from us, so no problem likely there.

I dump Scarlet in the laundry cart I readied on my way to her room, bundle her up in some sheets and tie up the whole package. I then cover her with some more sheets, after pressing her sleep points again, just in case. Hiding her won't make me look like I belong here if I run into someone – especially not while I'm wearing a Cobra Uniform – but it's easier than carrying her and it does decrease the chances that someone spotting me will shoot on sight. More than likely, they will instead just point at me with their guns and demand I surrender, which will give me time to disarm them or knock them out without much risk to myself. I much prefer that scenario to having to dodge bullets while carrying an unconscious adult and then having to eliminate the shooters.

I wheel the cart to the nearest elevator and take it, pushing the button to the highest floor. According to my map, there are windows along the passageway I'm going to end up in, so from there, I'll basically just need to break out and fly away.

While the elevator makes its way up, I put on my jet pack and carrying harness and attach Scarlett to the latter. Assuming the windows will be made of unbreakable glass, I get ready to throw a bomb and keep my free hand close to my katana, just in case the elevator is monitored and a squad is waiting for me on the top floor. I push the cart to the back of the elevator – I could hide behind it, but at this point, playing hide and seek any longer would just delay me and make it more likely that someone notice Scarlett's room is empty.

The door opens, and there's no squad. However, a patrol spots me immediately from halfway down the hall. They sound the alarm and take out their guns, but Scarlett's sleeping form acts as a human shield and they hesitate long enough for me to bomb the closest window and fly out into the night without even having to bother dodging bullets.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Gasp! What will Destro do to poor Scarlett? Will Storm Shadow really be a gentleman? Will the damsel in distress be rescued? By whom?

…

It's not easy to build suspense when most of you know roughly what will happen next. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The other reason my mind can't wander when I'm flying a jetpack is that they're so noisy I can't hear myself think. I usually find that a good thing but tonight, it's definitely a problem. I'm expecting to be followed eventually, but I can't tell whether I already am or not, and if someone shoots at me, I won't hear the projectiles until it's too late to avoid them. I can only hope the Joes wouldn't shoot me while I'm carrying one of their own.

I shut down the jet pack the second I'm close enough to the rooftop of the fortress to land comfortably and I pick up the sound of an airplane, still very distant. I take Scarlett and myself out of the harness, leave it there with the jetpack for someone else to pick up and bring the girl to Destro's office.

Destro is not there, but the commander is. Oddly, he looks puzzled to see me with a prisoner.

"Destro did not tell you why he was borrowing me?" I ask.

He shakes his head, frowning. He points to the wrapped up prisoner with his chin.

"Who is it?" he asks.

Rather than tell him, I cut the sheet off her. I want to know whether he'll recognize her – I don't need to know, not really, but I'm curious. Destro not telling him what he was up to is very unusual, and the Commander's reaction to Scarlett just might shed some light on the mystery.

As it turns out, his reaction is completely uninformative.

"Scarlett," he hisses. "Why does Destro want her?"

"He didn't say. He sounded as though he intended to keep her for a while."

The Commander looks thoughtful for a moment before he shrugs the matter off.

"Just put her in one of the dungeons," he instructs me.

I nod, pick her back up and head for the dungeons.

* * *

I get my first good luck at her while securing the dungeon chains around her wrists. My breath catches and for a moment, I'm literally stunned. As disgusting as his offer was, at least now I know why Destro thought he was being nice.

I reach out to her face before I know what I'm doing and she snaps awake at my touch. She whips her head around and bites my finger so hard it feels like she broke a chunk of the bone.

I scream and without thinking, take out my katana, ready to strike back. Luckily for her, my head catches up to my blood before I actually strike and I content myself with glaring at her and sheathing my katana back. If anything, she did me a favour: my silly crush is completely gone.

I leave her in the dungeon and go back to the roof to check on the airplane. It's on its way out and on the other side of the building, a parachute lands. I can hear the rescuer's breathing and heart beats, and my eyes widen in surprise: Scarlett's rescuer is that traitor of an ex-brother, Chatterbox. Obviously, he did go back to the military, even without me to share the head of the clan with.

I clench my teeth and run towards him, unsheathing my katana as I go. Judging by his calm, he hasn't recognized me yet or he knew who had kidnapped Scarlett before he arrived. Once I'm close enough to him, I make a point of adopting the clan's usual dual stance and glare at him.

His heart rate picks up slightly as he recognizes me and he charges towards me, unsheathing his own weapon. I can't see his expression – his face is completely covered by a mask and a dark visor – but I'm guessing he's glaring right back at me. If it were anyone else, I'd be surprised by the absence of yelling.

I block his attack and the shock echoes painfully through the finger Scarlett bit. I curse under my breath: she really did break something.

Speaking of Little Miss Bite-y, she's already managed to get free of her chains and to exit the dungeon, and she's running towards us, yelling. I can't help being impressed.

"Snake Eyes!" she calls out. "Watch it, he's dangerous! I think…"

I tune her out to concentrate on preventing "Snake Eyes" from cutting me in half. I scowl at the name: that was the expression he'd use in the war when everything was going wrong. His calling himself that is like calling himself the most unfortunate man alive.

"Snake Eyes, is it?" I snarl. "You think you have it rough, do you? You poor baby! Did you have everyone you ever cared for try to kill you lately?"

He stays mute and attacks again. What little calm I had left upon seeing him again evaporates.

"Answer me!" I scream. "You and the Soft Master… this is all your fault! The least you can do is TALK TO ME!"

He continues to say nothing and just keeps fighting. I haven't been able to do anything but block since we've started, but on the other hand, I have been able to block everything with relative ease. The Hard Master was right: he has started to regress. He is still better than me, but not by as much as he used to.

Just as I decide I actually have a small chance of winning this fight, Scarlett catches up to us and decides to join in. She proves Destro right about her abilities: she's not in the same league as a ninja, but between her and Snake Eyes, my defences quickly start failing and things get worse as I get angrier and angrier.

I'm furious at the whole situation. I didn't want to kidnap Scarlet in the first place. Moralities put aside, it's a stupid move. It's like kicking a hornets nest: it doesn't make the hornets go away, it just makes them mad. I only did it because I was ordered to, and I have to follow orders.

Ever since I came back from the war, I've been a slave. First to my own family, and for the past eight years, to an organization I despise. I've trained myself not to care about the blood on my hands, to detach myself from what I was doing; I've turned myself into a senseless puppet, or rather, I've tried. The only thing that keeps me going is that I can't give up: I want revenge. My uncle needs it and I deserve it.

Taking advantage of the fact most of my attention is on Snake Eyes, Scarlett manages to slap me right on the ear, making it pop painfully. That only reminds me that the man I'm working for got my eardrums injured before, and that injury was the reason I couldn't hear the arrow that killed my uncle in time to stop it and save him, and the reason I couldn't hear the murderer before he escaped.

Snake Eyes suddenly stops attacking me to get into a defensive position between her and myself. I stare at him in surprise: he thought I was going to kill her for the slap. It's visible in his stance, it's audible in his accelerated heart rate.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, he also believes I killed the Hard Master and he thinks killing rodents is just as bad as killing humans. Still, I'm insulted.

"If I needed her dead, she would be already!" I shout angrily. "I wouldn't have dragged her all the way here!"

He responds by attacking again. I've had enough. I can't win a fight against him unless I seriously hurt him or kill him, and as angry as I am with him, I can't do that to my own brother. With Scarlett involved, it's not even an option anyway: they have already demonstrated that I can't win against both of them.

I jump back and sheath my weapon. A thousand snarky, angry and flippant remarks run through my head but I shut them all down.

He thinks I'd kill a girl for slapping me. He knows I've just kidnapped her and he knows I work for Cobra. Whatever low opinion he's had of me since my uncle was murdered, he's just cemented it and what's worse, proving I was not the killer will not undo everything else I've done since. I'm ready to bet he won't understand I didn't have a choice. I won't have the luxury of forgiving him or not when I find out who framed me: he won't forgive ME, and neither will the Soft Master or anyone else.

I idly wonder whether he'll attack again and finally do what he didn't eight years ago, when he found me asleep in the street. I hate myself for it, but right now, I wouldn't mind if he did.

He doesn't. He spots my jet pack and heads there with Scarlett, turning away from me and still not saying anything.

"What, that's it? Aren't you going to take me prisoner?" I call out.

I wouldn't let him if he tried. I may not be able to win a fight against the two of them, but I can certainly run inside, lock them out and send troops after them to force them to retreat.

He says nothing. Under my mask, my lips curl in a snarl.

"Say something!" I scream. I don't know what I want him to say; I just want him to stop ignoring me.

Scarlett is the one to answer, although she's not addressing me.

"You know him," she tells him, not quite as a question. "From long ago, that's why he doesn't know you're…"

The sound of the jet-pack drowns the rest, but I can guess from context that the next word was "mute". Something happened to him since I saw him last, something that made him lose his voice. It's clearly karma: he couldn't be bothered to talk, he lost the ability to. I'd still feel sorry for him if not for the fact I'd happily trade places with him.

I watch him go for a while, trying to guess what he's thinking. He didn't try very hard to kill me, that much I'm sure of. While I was fighting them, Scarlett was mostly aiming at my throat and other vital spots, but he was all over the place, as if he couldn't decide where he wanted to strike. I'm guessing he couldn't decide whether he wanted to dispose of me himself or bring me to the Soft Master alive and let him do the job. Not wanting to get his hands dirty IS just like him: it's the same personality flaw that made him refuse to earn wages and that got him so worked up over my seeing-ear training.

A wave of nostalgia hits me. That I can feel nostalgic about a life I hated makes me wish 'Snake Eyes' had had the guts to kill me. Failing to avenge my uncle wouldn't be my fault, then. I would have had tried my best, and simply fallen victim to my misguided and superior fighter of a brother.

I scowl at myself. If I keep at this, I'm liable to build up enough self pity to start calling myself Snake Eyes too. I have a duty to my father's brother, and making excuses to fail will not do him any good. As for the fact that my actions since I've joined Cobra are unforgivable, I can deal with that afterward. Maybe I'll turn myself in to the Soft Master and let him kill me without revealing I'm innocent – it would spare everyone the trouble of switching from hating me for a murder I did not commit to hating me for everything I've done since.

I take a deep breath and go back to Destro's office to report that his prisoner has been rescued. I pick up on his and the Commander's voices some distance from the door and walk the rest of the way silently, curious.

"…HIM?" the Commander screeches.

"He is from the same clan, I have established that much. And yes, I think it's your old friend. We should get confirmation tonight."

"That's why you had Storm Shadow kidnap Scarlett?" the Commander asks. "You hoped Snake Eyes would come to the rescue and you'd find out how he compares to him?"

"Yes. If Snake Eyes is who I think he is, Scarlett is gone. If he's not, GI Joe is short one ninja."

I don't need to hear the rest. I trust the door open and glare at Destro.

"It's him," I confirm. "And yes, Scarlett is gone. I could have identified him for you if you'd only asked. There was no need for this kidnapping."

Destro shrugs and smirks.

"But this was so much more fun," he says.

I shrug too and carefully keep my tone calm. I hate being played like this, and I hate that Destro just casually assumed that my brother was still better than me and worse, that he was right. Most of all, I'm furious that he thought I'd kill a member of my own clan.

"For future reference," I say, choosing to not even dignify his comment on all this being fun with a response, "I will NOT kill my own kin. Not for you, not for anyone."

The Commander cocks his head. I stare at his mask until he looks elsewhere before I turn my back on them and stalk off to the next bend in the hallway. I then start eavesdropping again: Destro is up to something, I'm sure of it – he never does anything just for fun. Hopefully, the Commander will make him admit whatever his real intentions were.

"I spoil you, sometimes," Destro says after a few minutes.

"Spoil me?" the Commander hisses. "You could have gotten him killed! And I did NOT need him to confront me about whether he'd kill members of his clan or not!"

"Yes, you did. Now you know he won't kill Snake Eyes, even if he somehow gets the upper hand on him."

I roll my eyes and stop listening. It's just like Destro to go through all that just to establish an obvious fact. I go back to my quarters, fuming and frustrated.

* * *

**Author's notes**

There was obviously no way for me to make this actually silent, so I decided not to go out of my way to avoid dialogues. I also had to change the part where Storm Shadow tries to shoot Snake Eyes with an arrow, since he recognized him already. And he had to recognize him right away because of the hearing thing…

I have to say, it's no wonder the comic book does not make a point of consistently pointing out Storm Shadow can hear well enough to be assumed to have shot a man from a fair distance, beyond closed walls, guided only by that man's heart rate and breathing pattern. This faculty gets annoying, sometimes. Another example and a mild spoiler for a possible future flashback: he can't very well walk into an ambush.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The Commander was apparently not impressed with Destro's little games either - the incident was the straw that broke the camel's back and convinced the Commander that Destro was intent on taking over Cobra. I hadn't suspected the weapons dealer of this at all, but after this little stunt, I'm inclined to agree with the Commander. His own self is probably the only person in the world Destro would like to see at the head of Cobra more than the Commander.

Not wanting me to go off on a wild goose chase - Destro's had the sense to disappear after the Commander screamed at him over Scarlett's kidnapping – the Commander hired a mercenary by the name of Major Sebastian Bludd to kill him. Long story short, the attempt failed spectacularly thanks to the Baroness who saved her lover and was blown up for her troubles. Not exactly a loss for human kind – she was the very definition of a she-devil.

Bludd, as far as we know, has been captured by the Joes. The Commander has somehow managed to convince Destro that the whole thing had been Bludd's idea, citing the Baroness as the mercenary's motive. Both he and the Commander are pretending to be quite happy with each other, and merrily doing business with each other again.

At the same time, the Commander has assigned 12 spies to keep tabs on Destro at all times and Destro is not good enough an actor to hide the fact such a precaution is indeed necessary.

It's actually quite entertaining to watch. It does, however, mean that the Commander keeps me closer than ever. Thankfully, the whole situation has him in a rotten mood and he's the quietest I've ever known him to be.

It's been about a month since Destro has had me kidnap Scarlett, and about 3 weeks since Bludd failed to kill him. Things are settling into what passes for normal for Cobra.

The Commander is having breakfast and I'm picking at mine, watching over him and keeping an ear out for any sign of trouble, when his cell phone starts vibrating. I stop eating and look at him curiously. I don't remember his cell ever ringing – he uses it to call people, not the other way around.

He appears to be just as surprised as me. He checks the caller's ID and stares at it for a moment before speaking.

"Switzerland," he hisses. "Who…?"

He finally establishes the connection and answers.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"This is Major Bludd, Cobra Commander. As you can certainly tell, I am no longer in custody of the Joes."

"Good for you," the Commander replies. "Why do I care? You failed me, you're not getting paid and I don't see why I'd bother hiring you again."

"You will pay me, Commander. Two million US dollars, delivered by your hand. And you will do this because otherwise, I will contact Destro and tell him about our arrangement. I was with the Joes long enough to find out you're still doing business with him: I'm guessing that he doesn't know you wanted him dead and that you wish for him to remain ignorant of that little fact."

"You don't even know how to contact him, and besides, why would he believe you?"

"The Baroness is with me," Bludd announces, rather bluntly. "Say hello, dear."

I roll my eyes. This place is turning into a living soap opera.

The Commander passes me the phone just as the Major passes his to the Baroness.

"I'm quite alive Commander, and I really do think you owe me compensation for the distress you've caused me," she says.

With the phone in my hand, I can hear her voice clearly, as well as her breathing and her heart, and there's no doubt that she's the genuine article. I hand the phone back to the Commander, nodding.

"How do I know you won't tell Destro about all this whether I pay or not?" the Commander demands.

"I can only give you my word," the Major says. "But you can definitely be sure that we will tell him if you DON'T pay."

"Where?" the Commander snarls.

Bludd gives him the name of a hotel and the Commander hangs up before throwing the phone against the nearest wall. I sit back down and calmly finish my breakfast. It's disgusting, like most of what they call food around here, but it's worth slowly eating every bite to hear his heart rate accelerate as he gets angrier and angrier.

"Storm Shadow, you will come with me. I want them both dead, and I want their deaths to be slow."

I swallow what's in my mouth and smile.

"Yes, Commander," I say. It almost feels like I get to start making amends for my services to Cobra ahead of time, while at the same time improving the Commander's chances to stay alive.

* * *

Even though I remember the individual events that took place in the past few hours, the actual sequence that led to the present moment is so bizarre that I have trouble piecing it together in a way that satisfies logic.

The Joes found Bludd and the Baroness at around the same time we arrived in Switzerland. They tried to capture them, we arrived in the middle of it, and after some confusion, the Commander ended up trying to flee the scene with the Baroness in a stolen vehicle. Five Joes, Snake Eyes included, followed in hot pursuit, and the Major and I followed THEM in another of their vehicle, he intent on rescuing his blackmail money, me intent on rescuing the Commander. I've reasoned that he was more likely to be useful alive than dead, so I've let him live so far.

Staying true to their natural talents at making any situation worse, the Baroness and Commander dragged us all to a ridiculously dangerous mountain road, narrow and winding, with a cliff face on one side and a sharp drop on the other. Every now and then, we can see remnants of guard rails that look as though they were woefully insufficient even back before they were decrepit. The Major has noticed my bow and arrow and has been ordering me to shoot the Joes off the road.

I may have done several things over the past eight years that I would not have believed myself capable of, but I will still not hurt someone from my own clan – not even Snake Eyes. Mostly to shut the Baron up, I pretend to try and follow his instructions. I shoot a few arrows to miss the tires.

"I can't shoot the tires and the rest is armoured," I announce. I have no idea how thick the armour is, but I try to sound as though I'm positive that I can't penetrate it with my arrows.

The Major curses and continues to drive.

* * *

The chase continues with no progress by any party until the Commander and the Baroness, swerving a bit too much on a tight turn, collide with the cliff side. The Joes stop right behind them and jump out of their vehicle, three of them running towards the Commander and the Baroness and the other two turning to face us. Snake Eyes is one of the latter and rushes straight for me.

"Snake Eyes! That's him! Give him one for me, will ya?" the other one yells.

I recognize him as the one who broke my ribs on the Joe's last attack on Cobra Island; he's not particularly hard to remember, what with the fact his arms are about twice the size of mine.

As he approaches, Snake Eyes's heartbeat slows a bit and his breathing deepens. Whatever made him hesitate to do his best to kill me last time has obviously since stopped to be a factor: he's out for blood. The fact bothers me a lot more than I can explain – I've known his intentions towards me for over eight years, and he's already tried to do away with me last time we met, even if half-heartedly. So why was I not expecting this?

I spend the next little while desperately dodging and blocking as he tries his best to kill me. I'm quite over the shock of seeing him again, and my bout of suicidal thoughts is long over: I can't get revenge if I'm dead and therefore, I don't intend to die.

I almost immediately have to block out our surroundings to give him my full attention, and he soon has me with my back to the cliff side. I start talking then, hoping to distract him more than anything else: I really don't have anything to say that might change his mind about killing me. I do have things to say, but since they amount to little more than complaining about my lot, I intend to just spout insults in an effort to break his concentration.

"Are you trying to kill me or to teach me a new dance?" I sneer. It's a hollow joke, especially since his last move was an attempt to run my heart through.

"How did you lose your voice? Did you just forget how your tongue works? And what's with the mask? You weren't THAT ugly." I almost wince at how stupid this last one is, but it does the trick – he gets angry and puts too much strength in his next slash, slowing down his recovery by half a moment, allowing me to listen out and glance around for the Commander and reassure myself that he's fine.

The good news is that he's alive and apparently unhurt. The bad news is that he's still here, held tight by two Joes and wearing handcuffs. He's looking at me, very obviously waiting for me to fix the situation.

I roll to avoid Snake Eyes' latest attempt to part my head from the rest of my body then run in the Commander's direction, taking out my second sword as I go and screaming at the two Joes who are holding him. I listen out for the remaining two, and find them behind where I was, apparently intent on sneaking up on Snake Eyes and myself.

The two Joes let go of the Commander to take out their guns, aiming at me. Snake Eyes is right behind me. He probably expects me to go low to avoid the bullets because that would make aiming at me more difficult while not reducing my ability to change direction and dodge.

I can't do what he expects me to, so I jump. I twist in mid-air to avoid the gun fire and pretend to aim at the two Joes, who promptly dive out of the way. I redirect one of my swords to slash the Commander's handcuffs and throw the other one towards one of the Joes, too low to catch anything else than his legs unless he's stupid enough to duck. I push the Commander towards the car the Joes were in. The other one is gone, presumably taken by the missing Baroness and Major. If we're lucky, the keys are still in the remaining car and he can drive off while the Joes try to prevent me from killing them.

I hear Snake Eyes right behind me again and his sword swishes through the air, aimed at my legs. I skip over it, barely clearing it, and roll right back to the ground, guessing he wanted me to go up. It turns out to be a good guess – he had his gun aimed up. It takes him about a quarter of a second to adjust, just enough for me to kick the gun out of his hands.

The thought crosses my head that I should have killed him – I'm not likely to get an opening like this again and in all likeliness, I've just made my last mistake. I clench my jaw – I won't hurt him. I'm not the traitor they all think I am.

I hear the engine of the car starting and the Joes curse, running and shooting towards it. I take out a few shurikens but I don't have time to aim before I throw them at the Joes – Snake Eyes is on me again, and I'm stuck devoting all my attention to blocking and evading again.

The car keeps going and the Joes eventually stop firing. They're still cursing, understandably enough. Snake Eyes is furious too, and increases the ferocity of his attacks again. My eyes widen and I only manage to block one out of his next three blows. I almost avoid the other two, but they graze my arms, drawing blood.

At this rate, I estimate I'll be dead in about 10 seconds. He is actually going to kill me – even now, I can't quite believe it. I hear the Joe with the huge arms behind me, but I don't have the luxury to do anything about him; I need to concentrate on Snake Eyes if I am to trump my own prediction.

I hear the other Joe's fists moving towards my head at the same time as Snake Eyes trusts his sword towards my abdomen. I twist to avoid the sword, but one of the punches catches me. Everything goes quiet.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

To the comic book fans: you're not imagining things, I'm deviating again. It just really worked better that way for this story. Having the Commander captured first and Storm Shadow rescue him as opposed to allowing him to escape in the first place was just slowing down the plot.

About Snake Eyes: I know he's not usually a particularly murderous ninja. I can't reveal exactly why he's so intent on killing him yet since Storm Shadow is not a telepath, but I promise I'm not just making him into a villain (I wouldn't, honest). Without spoiling, I can at least remind you that as far as Snake Eyes knows, Storm Shadow murdered his uncle and then proceeded to spend the next 8 years helping Cobra by, among other things, killing a lot of soldiers, some of them Joes.

Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_I'm getting tired of this. It's hot and sticky, I stink and so does the rest of my unit, and above all, I'm bored out of my skull._

_We've been walking in this jungle for days, with no break except to eat and sleep, and with nothing to show for it. We've found no enemy camp, we've seen nobody, and we're not allowed to talk unless extreme emergency. The fact that the other five men in my unit, our sergeant included, are making such a racket just walking that trying to be silent is a waste of time has so far eluded said sergeant. He also refuses to rely on my hearing anybody close by well before they hear us._

_My head snaps up when I pick up a human sound. I accelerate my step to level with Sgt Wilkinson and tap his shoulder. He stops the march and bends a bit for me to whisper in his ear._

_"I hear someone at one o'clock, a few minutes off yet. Boots on mud."_

_His eyes widen briefly before he cocks his head._

_"I can't hear a thing," he whispers. "Are you sure?"_

_He knows I can hear better than most people, but he can't seem to come to term with just how much better. I will my eyes not to roll as I nod._

_He turns to the others and signals for quiet, then turns to head for one o'clock. I'm about to resume position but he grabs me and gestures that I'm to stay next to him._

_We just about tiptoe for a while and we get within visual range without our quarry noticing us, as evidenced by his unchanged pace, direction, and pulse. He has no idea we're here. Sadly for him, he's wearing an enemy uniform and carries one of our guns, indicating that he might have run across a different unit and may have information to relay to his superiors. Even worse for his survival odds, he's in a clearing and we have as clear a shot as we could wish._

_"Anybody else around?" Sgt Wilkinson asks me._

_I listen out. I can just make out a group of people far off in the direction the lone soldier is walking. Metal clanking, heavy steps, voices… his camp._

_"He's heading for camp. I can barely make it out," I mouth to him._

_He frowns and takes out his gun and silencer, fitting one with the other. I put a hand on his arm to stop him. I'll never understand why soldiers act as though these things are actually quiet. They're nowhere near as loud as regular guns, granted, but they still make a pretty loud noise, and so does the bullet if it hits something hard, which happens quite often when anybody else than a sniper takes the shot._

_"That's still noisy," I summarize in a breath. I take out my bow and an arrow, aim for the artery in his neck and shoot._

_The arrow goes through him like butter and lands in the soft ground just short of the other side of the clearing. The soldier's heart stops and he crumbles._

* * *

I hear grunts, people shifting, sharp intakes of breath. Voices.

"I don't know... The rest of us all have bullet wounds, a SWORD went through my leg, and ol' Snakes didn't get a scratch."

The sound of a kick on metal. Vibrations against me. I realize my eyes are open when I notice a sharp blade in front of my face.

"You're losing your touch, Gung-Ho. He's up already."

A face behind the sword, a prick on my arm. I try to jerk away, only to hit the wall behind me.

I don't have time to make sense of what's happening before the drug takes effect and I fall asleep.

* * *

_I grab the picture, just to get a rise out of him. The sergeant gave us leave to whisper again, I think partly because he's finally realized I'd hear people approaching well before they'd hear us._

_And yet, Chatterbox has just been staring at that picture of his sister since we've stopped. I know he misses her, but moping isn't going to get us home any faster. I miss my family too – I've even taken to imagining my father dying while I'm away – but I'm not about to allow myself to moan the night away._

_So, I snatch the picture out of his hands and snort._

_"You know, the more I think of it, the more I think she can't be your sister. She looks nothing like you: SHE's cute," I say._

_He chuckles and grabs the picture back._

_"Keep this up and I'm going to have to punch you," he jokes._

_"Oh, come off it. She's your twin, not your baby sister. You don't get to be the overprotective big brother."_

_"Sure I do. She was born a couple of minutes after me," he replies._

_I snicker. The sergeant shoots us a dirty look to signal us to be quieter._

_"You couldn't punch me if you tried, you know," I tease, whispering lower than ever._

_"Yeah," he sighs. "What martial arts did you study anyway? I've never seen an arrow go that fast or that far."_

_"It's my family's own discipline. I bet you'd be good at it... would you like to learn?"_

_"What, you're going to teach me? Here?"_

_"Not here, you dolt. You'd be too tired to walk. I mean when I go back home. We have a lot of students… you could be one. I'm going to be a teacher, so yeah, I could teach you."_

_"You're serious."_

_I nod. I briefly wonder if I'll get away with inviting a student with no approval, but brush the matter from my mind. If worse comes to worse, he'll be put on probation. Just the same, I'll write tonight to give them advanced warning._

_I clench my jaw when I realize I automatically thought of writing my uncles instead of my father. They outrank him, but just the same, the normal thing for me to do would be to write him and let him go to them._

_What is wrong with me? Why do I keep finding myself acting as though my father is dead? I wouldn't know if he was, unless his ghost visited me, so why is it that part of me is so certain that he is?_

_"Do you sometimes wonder if your family's okay?" I ask Chatterbox._

_"All the time," he answers. "It's normal. You're in danger, and you can't see them and you hardly ever get any news, so your brains start thinking they're in danger too. You just start thinking danger is normal. It's like you don't remember that some people aren't in danger all the time like we are."_

_I do think it's the most I've heard him say in one go, ever. I raise an eyebrow at him. His reply doesn't help me at all – father's job technically puts him in harm's way on a daily basis – but the way he said it makes it's obvious that it's helping him. I nod, hoping to look like I've been illuminated by his wisdom, and quickly change the subject back._

_"So, what do you say? Will you come?"_

_"Depends. Do YOU have a cute sister?" he teases._

_"My cousin is cute as a button," I say, smirking. My tone gives it away and he smirks back._

_"How old is she?_

_"Just turned 12," I admit, grinning. "Seriously, though, what do you say?"_

_He shrugs. "I'll think about it."_

_I bite my tongue, trying to decide how to tell him exactly what I'm offering him so that he'll believe me._

_"We don't charge students," I start. "They're our strength when they start improving. The bigger the clan, the better."_

_"How do you make a living?"_

_He really has a talent for going straight to the point._

_"Odd jobs, mostly personal protection and security."_

_He frowns thoughtfully and thinks for a bit._

_"Let me get this straight," he says. "Your family teaches martial arts for free, the kind of martial arts that includes being able to shoot an arrow and make it go almost as fast as a bullet, with a bow. Not a crossbow, just an old fashion bow. And the training is really demanding."_

_I nod. Goodness, he's going to have a sore throat by the end of this._

_"And you do that because you want the clan to be bigger. Strength in number. Right?"_

_I nod again._

_"And to make money, you work on contracts, mostly as bodyguards or guards."_

_"Yep. My father does that full time, some teachers do it every now and then – I don't think I will, I don't like it much – and some advanced students can do some of the less dangerous contracts too. They usually keep most of what they make, but even then, we still get a commission."_

_We're still whispering, so he's the only one hearing all this._

_"This needs to stay between us," I tell him, just in case it's not obvious._

_This seems to be the last piece of the puzzle he needed to confirm the truth._

_"You're a ninja," he breathes in a shocked voice. "An actual, real, ninja."_

_I smile and nod._

_"I thought you should know before you made a final decision on my invitation."_

* * *

I hear noises and voices again.

"…prisoner, and it's not Bludd or…"

I can feel movement, and it's making me feel sick.

"…Duke. I just got lucky, he wasn't even breaking…"

I have no idea where I am, my head feels like it's full of cotton.

"…not like the others are NOT dangerous. Fact is, he wasn't your prime…"

I want to sleep, but the voices are keeping me awake. I want to tell them to shut up, but I can't find the strength to talk.

"…Snake Eyes to keep him busy. I underestimated Bludd. Two of us got shot before we…"

Snake Eyes. The name reminds me he tried to kill me, and I notice he's here - right next to me, in fact. My eyes fly open.

He's holding his sword by my neck, and as soon as my eyes open, he kicks the bench I'm on.

"Where…" I start, then have to stop, out of breath. Why am I so weak? Why don't I have any idea how I got here? Did he really try to kill me? If so, why am I alive? Who are the others here?

The questions make my head spin. A man steps in front of me and flashes a light in my eyes. I close them and try to jerk away, but I can't move a muscle.

I feel a prick on my arm, and the voices fade away again.

* * *

_I'm in the middle of a dream when I hear them – it doesn't fit what's going on in the dream, and I snap awake._

_I recognize the sound before my eyes are even fully opened – hand bombs, thrown in our direction. I'm screaming before the first one goes off._

_The four others who were asleep seem to take forever to move. The sentry is nowhere to be seen or heard. The bombs start going off just as we're scrambling away from the middle of the camp._

_The noise level is unreal – there seems to be no end to the bombs, and on top of that, they're firing at us. I can't hear the individual bullets, except those that eventually make it within a foot of me, and by then, sheer luck is the only reason they don't get me. I kick a bomb that lands in front of me towards the trees, expecting it to blow up on my foot and again, being incredibly lucky._

_The sergeant is screaming for retreat but doesn't seem to know where to go - the gunfire and bombs are coming from all around us. We've been mostly stamping around for several seconds that feel more like several minutes. I can't believe we're still alive and as a matter of fact, I only see one more silhouette still moving other than the sergeant and myself. I scan the camp, but I see more parts and blood than full bodies – we're obviously down to three._

_I don't even know who the third survivor is, I can't hear him over the explosions and the gunfire. For all I know, my best friend is dead._

_"THIS WAY!" the sergeant screams, taking off in what seems to be a random direction. There's some gunfire coming from there, and to me, it looks like he's just taking his chances because anywhere is better than right where we are. I can't fault the reasoning but that doesn't mean I can't do anything to improve our odds._

_I dash towards the third survivor and grab him by the wrist. I almost cry in relief – it's Chatterbox. I drag him along back to where the sergeant is and let go of him long enough to throw every smoke bombs I have around us, concentrating on the front. I swing my arms around to grab both their wrists again and I move us towards the side of the smoke before letting the Sergeant merge us into a line heading straight forward. The gunfire never stops, but it is concentrated where we were a few seconds ago and someway, somehow, we make it out of the circle of our attackers._

_To think I used to scoff at all the evasion and escape training I was put through… not that we're out of trouble yet: thanks to the still air, my cloud of smoke is still just as thick as it was, but we've cleared it and the enemy soldiers weren't dumb enough to stay in it. They've been backing out while firing, and as a result, 10 of them have spotted us and are running after us. I start turning to return fire, but the sergeant shoves me forward._

_"TOO MANY. RUN!"_

_I disagree, but he's in charge. I keep running. At least, now that we're in movement, the enemy has no clear shots at us – the trees are shielding us, both visually and physically._

_I don't know how long it takes to lose our pursuers – we keep running all night anyway. The other two start stumbling near dawn, and finally, have to stop. I stop right along and peel my ears, trying to detect our enemy. I sigh in relief when I can't hear them at all._

_My relief is short lived – Sergeant Wilkinson is radioing in, calling for pick-up, and it suddenly hits me that we left our fallen comrades behind when we ran off._

_Our fallen comrades... The thought rolls around my head for a bit, translating itself into less gentle language. They're dead and we left their bodies where they lay. We ran off like cowards, we abandoned them. They were our brothers in arms, and we didn't even TRY to ensure their remains would be honoured. I'm disgusted with us._

_I sit down heavily next to Chatterbox and I'm just as silent as him the whole time the sergeant is busy on his radio. He finally turns back to us and sits down in front of us._

_"Pick-up will be here in an hour. There's a clearing up ahead, just a few minutes walk away. Tommy, you tell me when you hear the chopper and we'll start heading there."_

_I nod. Now that he's issued his orders, Wilkinson falls into the same silence as us._

_I'm the next one who says anything, about 45 minutes later, to let them know the chopper is on the way._

" _How far off? In minutes? Can you tell?" Wilkinson asks._

" _At least 15 minutes yet, I think."_

_He glances at his watch. "Then we start walking in 10."_

_He looks us both in turn and his face closes. Obviously, he's about to try to comfort us and he has no clue how to do so because he'd need someone to comfort HIM, first._

" _You want to talk about it?" he asks. It's a bit of a cop-out and he clearly knows it. He's at least guaranteed Chatterbox won't want to chat._

_True to form, Chatterbox shakes his head without even looking up._

" _Do you think they'll mind that we left their bodies?" I ask._

" _I think they wouldn't have wanted us to get killed in a vain effort to bring their remains home."_

_I nod, but I'm not sure I believe him._

" _We didn't even try. We just ran."_

" _We'd be dead if we'd tried. Besides, I ordered you to run. If they're mad at someone, it's me."_

_I nod again._

" _Speaking of the fact we survived… good job. But where did you get smoke bombs?"_

" _Home," I say with a shrug._

_He doesn't look satisfied, but he doesn't push the issue._

* * *

The sound of the distant chopper has mutated to the sound of being inside a helicopter. There are voices again and I still have no clue what's going on. I'm aware that I woke up twice already, and that I've been drugged back to sleep both times, and that Chatterbox - or rather, Snake Eyes - is here. That's pretty much it. I don't make a move, trying to delay my next dose of whatever they've been shooting into me long enough for some of my wits to come back.

Things gradually fall back into place. I was fighting with Snake Eyes. He was trying to kill me – I have to concentrate to keep my face neutral at the thought - but another Joe knocked me out. I'm their prisoner, then. And they're bringing me somewhere, and I'm being drugged so I won't make trouble.

Armed with that much information, I start paying attention to the voices around me. Most are just people I don't know chatting about this and that. Only one is of any interest – it just sighed and encouraged someone else to get started on something.

"You realized we were looking for prisoners. Prime objective was Bludd and the Commander, secondary was capturing someone who might tell us where the new Cobra base is or at least where Bludd is," the voice says.

Fabric shifts right where I know Snake Eyes' head to be. He must have just moved his head, but I'm not sure which way.

"Confirmed. I'm told you were trying to kill him, even after the Commander escaped and he was the only possible prisoner we had left. Is that correct?"

Another noise of fabric moving against skin, just like the last one.

"Confirmed. Is it true that you had to be physically restrained after Gung-ho knocked the prisoner unconscious, because you were still trying to kill said prisoner?"

It takes all my willpower not to react when he nods again, without so much as a hesitation. I need to get a grip – this shouldn't be a surprise. He's been told to kill me for eight years. I know this, I've known it all along, so why is it still a shock?

The voice sighs.

"Confirmed. Why? Look, I can understand that you don't think he'll talk, but you had your orders. I have mine. This mission was about capture. This one is probably the one I wanted the least, but if he's all we've got, we need to bring him in. Alive. You knew that. If you were anyone else, I'd have you tied up too until a court martial." He adds the last bit in a harsh whisper that I'm guessing only Snake Eyes is meant to hear.

Well, this is interesting… I don't know whether to be proud of my brother for having a good enough record to deserve this kind of treatment or to be irritated at the fact he always seems to be the favourite of anybody in charge.

I hear the scratch of pen on paper – Snake Eyes is writing his response. Whatever it is, it sounds angry. He rips a piece a paper and hands it at the person talking to him. From the way that person has taken pain to put voice to Snake Eyes' nods by saying 'confirmed' after each of them, I have a reasonable hope that he's recording the conversation and that he'll read out loud what Snake Eyes wrote. I'm not disappointed.

"You have no idea how dangerous he is, and you won't be able to keep him." A sigh. "Snake Eyes, for all we know, this one is a different ninja than the one Gung-ho fought before." The man sounds like he's just about run out of patience.

"He IS dangerous, Duke. You didn't see him fight back against Snakes," another voice pipes in.

"Snake Eyes didn't know he wouldn't manage to kill him until he started trying," Duke replies. "He made the decision to go against orders before he had any reason to think his opponent all that dangerous."

Snake Eyes, in the meantime, has been writing again. He hands another piece of paper to Duke and steps closer to me. I feel a blade on my throat again.

"I know him, and I'm guessing Cobra only has ONE ninja. And he's awake," Duke reads.

I open my eyes, with a lot more difficulty than I would have imagined. Even though I'm awake, my strength is obviously still gone.

"Aww, Snake Eyes, you noticed. I'm touched you're paying attention," I mutter.

Duke plants himself in front of me and stares into my eyes. I force my eyelids to stay up to stare back.

"What's your name?" he barks.

"Storm Shadow," I reply, surprised he didn't already know.

"How many ninjas work for Cobra?" he asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I chuckle.

He sighs and rubs his forehead.

"Doc, sedate him again," he says. "I don't want him to so much as twitch until there's at least twenty of us guarding him."

Obviously, he's decided to work on the assumption Snake Eyes is right about me for now.

'Doc' steps close, syringe in hand. He's the one whose face I saw the first time I woke up here, the one who told Gung-ho he was losing his touch. The drug, as before, makes everything fade away in seconds.

* * *

_I hate helicopters. It's not that I hate flying, I don't mind that. It's not even that being a passenger in the back of one is not comfortable – I couldn't care less about that._

_They're undeniably useful. The one we're running towards, in particular, is saving our skins: with enemy soldiers looking for us and half of us already gone, we need out of here._

_But they're just SO noisy. Even now that this one has landed, it's still making a racket because it hasn't shut down its engine. I can't hear much of anything else, and worse, I can't imagine anyone within a 10 miles radius doesn't know exactly where we are now. And because I can't hear a thing besides the noise machine, I wouldn't know if enemy soldiers were running towards us right now._

_There's nothing for it, of course, but to run to the chopper as fast as we can, especially once we're in the clearing it landed in._

_The sergeant gets us to clear the trees together and just instructs us to run as fast as we can. Following the instructions, I'm on the chopper before they're halfway there._

_That's when the gunfire starts. I start responding in kind, but they're protected by the trees and by Chatterbox and the sergeant who are in my way. They still have about 30 to 40 strides left to get on board. It feels like they're walking in slow motion._

_The sergeant starts pulling ahead because Chatterbox is trying to fire at the enemy while running. I think I'll join in with the Sergeant in telling him off once we're out of here – he's supposed to be running as fast as he can, not stupidly playing hero._

_The sergeant is only about 5 strides away when the would-be hero suddenly jerks and crumbles to the ground. My irritation at him instantly gives way to blind panic._

_He's been hit. He's not moving. I can't tell if his heart is still beating. For the second time in less than a day, I have no idea whether he's alive or dead._

_The picture of his sister that was tucked in his hat, that he considers a good luck charm, flutters away._

_The Sergeant doesn't notice and just keeps running._

_I'm out of the chopper before he gets there. He looks behind him and his eyes widen. He grabs my arm and yells at me to leave him. He looks horrified to be giving the order._

_I can't even answer. I twist free and run towards Chatterbox. He can't be dead too, he just… can't. And if he is, I'm not leaving him behind like the others. I've left my gun in the chopper – I dropped everything to run faster, without thinking – so once I get to Chatterbox, I grab his gun as I'm draping him over my shoulders. He moans and twitches. I laugh in relief and run back to the chopper backwards, firing at the enemy troops and dodging the bullets._

_I make it back to the helicopter, deposit Chatterbox on the floor, locate his wound in his right side and start bandaging him, completely oblivious to anything else that's going on until he's wrapped up to my satisfaction._

_It's only then that I notice the sergeant is staring at me with wide eyes._

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Yikes. I didn't realize until I put it in its own document how long this part was. I hope you don't mind flashbacks! If you do, sorry about that… there won't be any more of them for a while now (that I can think of).

A couple of parts back, I mentioned that Storm Shadow can't exactly walk into an ambush. Pairing that with the idea that ninjas don't just walk on landmines (according to Storm Shadow in the comic books, anyway) and my own feeling that Tommy wouldn't have been enough of a jackass to sense landmines but let his buddies walk on them without so much as warning them, I had some serious tinkering to do for that scene. I wrote 3 completely different ones (the other two won't end up as bonuses, I deleted them by mistake) and I was ready to pull my hair out at one point. I hope you like the final result.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

This time, I wake up brutally, following another injection obviously meant to do just that. I'm pushed back against the wall by Snake Eyes, who only releases me once he's sure I've noticed he has his gun right against my head.

I'm in an interrogation room, tied up and sitting in a chair surrounded by about 20 Joes, including Snake Eyes. A General is sitting on the other side of the mandatory table, glaring at me. Standing slightly behind him is a female officer who by all right should be on a runway rather than in a stark interrogation room. What is it with G.I. Joe and gorgeous girls?

"You are in Alcatraz," the General says, bringing my attention back to him. "Unless you cooperate, you could be here for the remainder of your natural life."

Snake Eyes sighs softly and I'm willing to bet he's rolling his eyes. I hold back a snort.

The General continues. "I'm General Hawk. Right now, I'm your best friend."

"I can't tell you anything about Cobra that might help you defeat them yet," I state, trying to cut things short.

"Yet?"

"I need the Commander around for about two more years."

"The Commander won't do you any good while you're in here. You do realize he won't rescue you, don't you? It's not his style, and he probably thinks you're dead," Hawk says.

"I don't need him to, I can rescue myself," I say.

This goes on for a while. He tries every trick in the book to convince me to talk; I just keep turning him down. I debate ignoring his questions and trying to talk to Snake Eyes, but decide against it. There's nothing I can tell him that could possibly make him change his mind about me at this point: he won't believe I'm innocent of my uncle's murder and I can hardly claim to be innocent of everything else I've done since.

Eventually, Hawk orders me away. Snake Eyes and the other 19 soldiers escort me into a cell. One of the soldiers sneers at me and teases me about trying to escape, then they all leave safe for one guard who stays just outside my cell, a step away to the left of the door.

I flop on the bed, expecting my weight to flatten the thin foam mattress and to hit the slate of metal under it. I sit right back up and stare at the mattress in disbelief.

It's a spring mattress. The idiots gave me a spring mattress, in a cell where the door has a glassless window blocked only by a few metal bars.

And here I expected getting out of here to be a challenge.

Not that I'm complaining: with the Baroness and the Major on the loose, the Commander is in danger – I don't know whether they've managed to snatch the blackmail money while escaping the Joes, but even if they did, they're treacherous enough to make trouble anyway. I'm guessing they'll be talking to Destro, and I'm afraid the three of them will elect to get rid of the Commander. I need to get back to him fast.

With such thoughts in mind, I was paying very close attention to my surroundings on the way here, and I have already located the way to the exit and a place to get a pipe to use as a snorkel: there's a laundry room just two doors from my cell. I smirk at the fact this will be the second time I get the supplies I need from the Joe's laundry room – between that and the fact my uniform is white, they're going to start thinking I'm laundry obsessed.

I lie back on the mattress and adopt a neutral expression, just in case my guard decides to glance in. I need to neutralize him, pick the lock, get my pipe, and swim underwater to the coast. Sharks could be a problem - I can't exactly fight them off without attracting attention, and without weapons, I'm not certain I could fight them off period. The other potential issue is the change of the guard – I don't know when that will happen, although I can be reasonably certain it won't be too soon, seeing the current guard only just started his turn.

So, I can avoid trouble with the change of the guard by acting fast. The sharks would also require speed – I'd need to out-swim them, and truth be told, I really don't think I can. Alternatively, I can hang on to a departing boat. I haven't heard anything leave the island yet, so there is a chance I can catch a ride if the Joes that brought me here leave by boat.

"You'd think that seeing it's all for national security, they would have let you level off a small spot of the island for a helipad," I call out to the guard conversationally, doing my best to sound like I know for a fact that they DON'T have a helipad. In fact, I'm just trying to figure out whether they do. "I mean, you've modified the actual building anyway."

He grumbles.

"The suits decided that we could commute by boat and that we didn't need to 'deface' the island. We had to make sure the building looked the same as before, too, and we had to leave about 50% to the tourists."

I smile, happy with the information. I start scratching the mattress next to my head with my nails and keep talking to cover the noise.

"So… living quarters must be pretty minimal? I bet nobody volunteers for a tour here, do they? How many prisoners are here?"

"You're just trying to make me talk about the place, aren't you?" he scoffs. "You're wasting your time. You're not getting away. Even if you managed to leave your cell – and you won't, don't kid yourself – I'm armed and I won't go close enough to the door for you to hit me. You wouldn't get past the doorframe. And even if you somehow did, what are you going to do? Swim?"

The mattress has given way easily, it's obviously ancient. I start playing with one of the springs, trying to work it free without it making a snapping sound.

"I hate swimming," I lie to keep the conversation going. "Besides, it's full of sharks, isn't it? It is in the movies." The spring comes loose. I stretch it out to flatten it, stuff it inside my shirt and dig my hand back in the hole to get another one.

"You bet. Get used to the idea, snake, you're here to stay."

"All the more reason to enjoy what company I can," I reply. "What about you? How long are YOU here for? And what did YOU do wrong?"

He huffs and doesn't answer.

"Just joking," I say in an exasperated tone. "I'm just trying to make conversation here. Aren't YOU bored? I mean, if we're both stuck here, what's wrong with killing time? Granted, you get to leave soon and I obviously don't, but in the meantime, wouldn't you rather chat than stand there doing nothing?"

"I'd rather spend the next two hours staring at the walls than entertaining you," he says stiffly.

Two hours shifts – I curse inwardly. I'd have to be lucky for the boat to just happen to leave in that interval. My second spring gets loose – at least this much is working well. I start bending it to work it into something resembling a small ball, ready to stuff it in my shirt with the other one if the guard moves towards the door to look in on me. I also sit up noiselessly with my back against the wall so that I can cover the hole without it looking like I picked an unnatural spot to sit on the bed.

"Aren't you a little ray of sunshine," I note. "Can't say I blame you – even if I wasn't in this cell, I wouldn't want to be here. This place is gross. Humid, old, stinky… I bet nobody stays any longer than they need to. The General must be long gone by now, unless he's going to try to interrogate me again."

I'm pretty sure he's not gone because I haven't heard any engine leaving. I'm just hoping he'll tell me _when_ the General is leaving.

"He's going to let you stew for a while before he wastes anymore of his time on you," the soldier sneers.

"So he IS gone. Being the valuable prisoner that I am, I would have expected him to check on me before he left. Make sure I'm comfortable and all."

"You really are full of yourself, aren't you?"

I hold back a snort. His irritated tone makes it obvious that the General is indeed going to check on me – he'd only be amused at my presumption otherwise. I listen out for anybody coming this way and after a few minutes, I hear the General coming, along with that highly decorative female officer from the interrogation room.

The rusted old spring broke apart a couple of times under my twists, but there is still enough metal for my purpose, and I almost have it as compact as I need it. I stuff it in my shirt with the other one and do my best to look nonchalant.

In fact, I desperately need to figure out whether Hawk is indeed leaving right away. I estimate my current guard has about one hour and three quarters left to his shift, so I can't afford to be hanging around waiting for the boat to leave for too long, and between the sharks and the end of my pipe that will be poking out of the water, grabbing on to the boat underwater for any length of time without it moving is not an option. Missing the boat altogether is even more out of the question: it could be days before another one leaves the island.

The General stops in front of the door, staying a step away just like my guard. I look at him and try to look disgruntled. I actually feel like grinning – I can see the collar of an outdoor jacket, and it's so stuffy in here that he most definitely wouldn't wear that unless he was on his way out.

"Why the long face, Storm Shadow?" he asks me. "I thought you were quite certain that you wouldn't stay for long?"

I roll my eyes at him and refuse to answer. The General smirks and steps away from the door. He exchanges a few words with the guard, mostly confirming protocol, and leaves. I wait until he's rounded a couple of corners and get my bent spring back out. I hurriedly make it as compact as I can, and I get up. My guard hasn't moved.

I plant myself a step in front of the window, blocking the view past me inside the cell. I'm holding my lump of spring in my closed fist, ready to flick it with my thumb. I have no time to waste; the boat could be leaving any minute. Therefore, unless my guard follows my script just about perfectly, he'll have to die.

"Hey," I call out. "I owe you an apology."

"Knock yourself out," he says, not moving.

One strike, and I don't think I can afford to give him two.

"Americans," I sigh, blissfully disregarding the fact I'm half of one myself. "How rude can you be? I need to say it to your face."

He lets out an exasperated groan and steps in front of the door.

"There you are," I say, then suddenly look towards where the General went, although all I can see is the wall of my cell. I'm pretending I heard someone walk towards here. "Hey, is that the General coming back already? What did he do, forget something?"

If my guard turns, I can hit his sleeping point, just below and a bit back from his ear. If he doesn't, I'll have to aim for his throat and kill him.

He turns. "What are…"

I flick my lump of spring and he collapses. I already have my other spring out by the time he's done crumbling on the floor, and I shape it as a lock hook, slip it between two bars, and start working on the lock. It's about as old as the mattress, and the mechanism is basic. The Joes obviously didn't think I'd even get a chance to try to pick it. I smile at the thought Snake Eyes is going to have a fit when he finds out how I've escaped.

The lock clicks open almost right away. I open the door, pushing the guard's sleeping form with it because he fell right in front of it, get out, take the soldier's keys, leave him sprawled there and run to the laundry room.

I turn off the water and rip the cold water pipe out. Some water sprays, but thanks to the pressure being killed, it doesn't hit anything strongly enough to make much noise. Armed with my improvised snorkel, I run in the same direction Hawk left, keeping an ear out for anyone nearby.

I don't run into anyone. I make it outside without trouble, despite having to try four different keys before finding one that fits the lock on the exit door. It's sunset out, which suits me perfectly. I make my way to the dock slipping from shadow to shadow, without being seen. The boat is there, with the General leaning on the rail looking at the ocean. There is no ramp going from the dock to the boat, leading me to believe everyone is on board and the boat is about to leave. The engine starts then, confirming that I've just caught my ride.

I plunge in the water in the shadow of the very boat I'm stowing away under, and position myself under a section with no open deck to decrease the odds of the pipe being seen. I let my pipe stick out of the water as far as I dare and grab on, just in time for the boat to take off.

It's night time by the time we're at the coast, and I'm just about drowned, but alive and an escapee from Alkatraz. I swim away from the boat and hide under the elevated dock until the General and his entourage are gone. I come out then and start thinking about how I'm going to make it back to the East Coast.

* * *

I end up stealing some more normal looking clothes than my uniform, some money for food, and hitch-hiking with truckers.

I'm back in Springfield about 90 hours after leaving Alkatraz. I'm not sure how long the Commander has been on his own because I don't know how long it took the Joes to bring me from Switzerland to Alkatraz, but I do know he's been alone far too long. I'm terrified he's dead already.

The troopers staffing the marina aren't even surprised to see me, which suggests the Commander hasn't bothered to report me missing. I run straight for the Commander's Office, intent on heading for the Command Centre next if he's not there.

I'm reassured when I get close enough to his office to hear him through the sound proof walls. He's in there, talking quite happily to Zartan. He doesn't even sound particularly worried for his health and he's just told Zartan that peace had not even been as costly as he had feared. I take it to mean he's bought himself forgiveness from Bludd, the Baroness and Destro.

I lean on the wall next to his door, pretending to be politely waiting to be summoned in. In fact, I'm seizing the occasion to overhear him when he has no reason to suspect that I might. I might get lucky enough for him to let out a hint on who killed the Hard Master and framed me.

Zartan chuckles.

"Throwing the blame on others for murder is becoming a specialty of yours," he says, "but just the same, I'm rather glad I won't have to count on you to do it on my behalf after all."

"I think you will," the Commander replies, "but as I keep telling you, you have no cause for concern as long as you keep serving me well."

My heart is hammering. They are talking about the Commander covering for Zartan, and I'm not aware of the Commander covering for anybody else than my uncle's murderer. I force myself to calm down by rationally telling myself I'm almost never aware of what the Commander is really up to.

"You're very easy to displease, at least on a temporary basis," Zartan replies. "And besides, I still doubt you'll have the nerves in the end. You'd be too afraid he'd guess you're lying."

"He doesn't scare me at all," the Commander laughs. "My dear Zartan, you don't really think I'd feed you to our stormy ninja friend? At this point, I'd be much more likely to point him towards Bludd. Of course, if you ever betrayed me…"

It takes me a second to get over the shock and to start thinking again.

Zartan. It was Zartan. It's obvious in hindsight – he's a master of disguise and a very good archer, and he's among the worst cowards I've ever met. And the Commander, after I'd have served him ten years to the best of my ability, and gave up all but the slightest shred of honour in the process, was going to lie to me and blame whoever was out of favour at the time. I can't believe it, and at the same time, I can't believe I'm surprised.

Yet, as furious as I am, I'm grinning. This is the end, I'm free. I can kill both of them right now, leave and… well, I'm still not sure what I'll do afterward, but the point is, I'm free nearly two years ahead of schedule, and both myself and my uncle will be avenged in about 30 seconds – maybe 60 if I take my time with the Commander.

I have no weapons on me, and I wouldn't have it any other way: killing them both with my bare hands is as perfect as it gets. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down somewhat and eliminate any chance of mistake, and I kick towards the door to slam it opened.

I don't know whether my foot even touches the door. My head seemingly explodes at the moment I kick, and I can't feel anything else than the pain. I've never felt anything like it, I can't even begin to try and ignore it. It's taken over completely, obliterating all my other senses – I'm not only feeling, but seeing, hearing, smelling and tasting pain.

I can't tell whether I'm screaming, I can't tell whether I've fallen. After what feels like a lifetime of nothing but this torture, my brain finally shuts itself down and I gratefully slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author's notes**

This is probably the first time in this story where I actually get to surprise everyone AND to end on a cliffhanger. :D

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

If not for being able to hear my own heart, I'd think I'm dead. I can't move a muscle; I can't even feel my body. I can't even tell whether my eyes are opened in complete darkness or closed.

I hear two people approaching - the Commander and Mindbender. I want to jump at the Commander's throat - I'm screaming at my muscles to jump. I don't even get a twitch out of them, or at least I don't think I do – I can't actually tell.

"I must thank you again for this opportunity, Commander," Mindbender says.

My heart starts hammering. I do NOT like the sound of this. I try to force myself to calm down, but without even being able to control my breathing, it's no easy task. It becomes altogether impossible as he continues.

"The results you want will require wiping his memory practically clear, and then rebuilding. Such a complete change will make it easy to tell how well the treatments are working. And if what you told me about his powers of retention is true…" the doctor trails off, sounding blissful.

I try moving again. I concentrate every ounce of will and strength I have in an effort to just clench my fist. As far as I can tell, nothing happens.

This can't be happening.

"Think nothing of it, Doctor," the Commander says. "The only reason I didn't let you do it earlier is that I was getting a kick out of him."

"It's already a treat to see my safety device worked so well. What made him move to attack you? Did he scream when it happened?"

"He overheard me reassuring the real culprit that I would blame someone else for the murder of his uncle. He hollered. I'm surprised you didn't hear it, I suspect most of the base did," the Commander says, careless as can be.

A safety device by Mindbender designed to activate if I made a move against the Commander… that's how they stopped me, that's what caused the pain. They must have implanted a chip in my head at some point. I don't know how they pulled it off, and by now, it doesn't matter anymore – they've been controlling the food I eat and the air I breathe for eight years, it's not like drugging me would have been all that difficult. I try to move again, more desperate to succeed at moving a muscle, any muscle, than I've ever been to do anything. Nothing happens.

I start panicking. I know it, and I can't stop it. My heart is beating about three times as fast as it should be and I can't slow my breathing anymore than I can control any other part of my own body.

"Is his heart rate supposed to be this high?" the Commander asks.

"He's just terrified," the doctor says dismissively. "You would be too, if you were so powerless as he is now, and knew that I was about to get my hands on your mind. It creates too much stress not to let the brains have this one way to react; it makes it difficult to work. So, I never take the heart over. The machine adjusts his breathing automatically if it becomes necessary to keep him conscious."

The Commander laughs. I'd scream if I could. This can't be real, this can't be happening!

"Yes, I suppose the only other way around it would be to kill his hearing like you do his other senses, and that wouldn't be any fun, now would it?"

The doctor chuckles and starts moving around, clicking some machine parts together and tapping or moving some other parts. It sounds like some of the stuff he is handling is right on me, although I can't feel a thing.

I'm still trying to move, but I can't concentrate. I can't shake the panic. My thoughts are running circles between trying to deny any of this is happening and begging the spirits of my parents and uncle for help.

The doctor keeps puttering about, causing the occasional sound cues from his machine.

It seems like my heart should have failed by now, it's going mad. I wish it would, I'd rather die than live through this. This can't be happening. Not when I finally got what I wanted… it can't end like this! It can't be my fate to be turned into Cobra's mind slave!

"I could give him back verbal control and some rudimentary motor control, if you'd like," the Doctor says. "This is going to be extremely painful and the process will not allow for him to pass out, so if you're feeling vindictive, we can make it… entertaining."

"No," the Commander replies right away. "No control at all. We're not taking any chances."

Mindbender doesn't reply. I hear another click, and the pain that knocked me out earlier suddenly seems like a tickle in comparison. What exactly is going on flies right out of my mind as the pain takes over.

True to what Mindbender promised, I don't pass out this time: the pain just keeps on going. And I still can't move, scream, or so much as think.

* * *

_Another scream that fades away as another victim dies. It's a young girl's voice, so it had to be one of our young students. I clench my teeth and continue to fight. If I slow down, not only will I share her fate and that of all who preceded her, I won't have any chance of saving what few are left._

_There are TOO few. I can hear several more dying within the next few minutes – GI Joe is just taking them out now. The noise level keeps dropping as the fight winds to an end. Pretty soon, everything is quiet except for the clank of my weapons against theirs and the gunfire that is aimed at me._

_I'm the last one; the Joes have killed everyone else. I woke up this morning to a clan of hundreds, and now the Arashikage is down to just me._

_The moment I realize I'm the only survivor, I grow perfectly calm. I know exactly what to do, and I know how it will end. I will kill as many of them as I can, until they finish me off too._

_"Very few of you will live to report this victory," I growl at them. "I swear it."_

_It's not that I was not fighting as well as I could before, but this resolution, along with the knowledge that this is my last fight, allows me to put myself in the Arashikage Mindset, something that I would normally need someone else to assist me with._

* * *

I wake up with a start and jump out of bed in a fighting stance before I realize that there's nobody around, and that I'm in a small room instead of in an open air courtyard. Catching a glance at myself, I also see that although I'm wearing a gi, I have no weapon on me.

Someone knocks at the door. I automatically face the door in a defensive stance.

"Can I come in?" a voice says from the other side.

"Who are you?" I reply, trying to sound like I'm not freaking out. "What is this place? How did I get here?"

"We rescued you from the World Order," the voice says. "Listen, I know you could kill me before I'm even done opening the door, so I'd appreciate if you agreed not to. Think of the fact you were asleep just then, and nobody harmed you. We're on your side."

I stare at the door for a second and decide I'm more likely to get some answers if there's someone in the room to give them to me.

"You can come in," I call out.

I hear a sigh of relief and a doctor comes in, looking for all the world like the archetypal mad scientist.

"I know how I look," he grumbles upon seeing my expression. He sits on the chair next to my bed. "Do you remember who you are?"

"Arashikage…" I can't finish, I can't think of my given name. "I… I don't? What happened to me?"

"Your memory has been wiped by the World Order. It IS encouraging that you remember your family name – obviously, they haven't completed the treatments. They probably had to go slowly in order to preserve your fighting ability – it's what makes you useful to them – and your normally flawless memory might have slowed them down… What else do you remember?"

I search my memory and feel myself starting to panic upon finding next to no recollection at all, of anything. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down and try again, but all I can remember is the dream I was just having. I don't even remember being a good fighter in reality.

"Nothing," I sigh.

"How about general knowledge? I've mentioned the World Order. Do you know what I'm talking about? What do you remember of the world itself? Geography, history, science?"

I frown, puzzled. I remember nothing about me, but I do remember the names of the continents, several countries, some history, and even some scientific facts. I most definitely remember the World Order – they secretly run most of the planet. They're tyrants, murderers. I even remember that most people think they are an urban legend and don't really exist, despite suffering under their rule. I also remember their military, GI Joe – they do all the dirty work, but also a fair bit of public services for appearances, under the guise of working for the American Government. They're hailed as heroes by the general public, who doesn't know any better.

"I think I remember everything," I say. "How is that possible?"

"It seems like we interrupted them towards the end of the first phase of your flip. They hadn't started on your general knowledge, they were still working on your personal memories," he says as if to himself.

"Flip?" I can guess what he means by the context, but I can't believe it.

"It's what they call their brainwashing process. They flip their victims from enemies to allies."

"They were trying to make me their ally?"

"Yes. That's why they captured you. We rescued you before they finished, thankfully."

"If you hadn't…" I can barely finish. The thought is beyond horrifying. "…I'd be working for them? I'd be helping them?"

"Yes."

"But then, is everyone who works for them, just… flipped?"

"No. It's an insanely expensive process, very time consuming, very labour intensive. They have only done it a handful of times."

"Then why were they trying to do it to me?"

"Because you are the best ninja alive."

"Ninja?" I remember my dream again – the way I was fighting in it was certainly ninja-like. Maybe that part of it came from a shred of memories?

"Yes," he confirms. "You were a member of the Arashikage, a ninja clan that was dedicated to fighting the Order."

"What do you mean, I was? I haven't been flipped, why wouldn't I go back home? Considering what they've tried to do to me, I'll be more than happy to continue to fight the Order."

He looks at me sadly and doesn't say anything.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The Arashikage is no more."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand, refusing to acknowledge the now obvious fact that this 'dream' I had was actually a residual memory.

"The Order killed all the others on the same day they captured you."

"You said we were a clan of ninja!" I protest. "They can't have killed us all! We would have been able to defend ourselves!"

He nods. "Against anything but their full force, more than likely. As near as we can figure out, they sent at least two thousand highly trained troops. We knew your clan to have about 200 members, and 216 bodies were found: men, women, and children. Rival clans were blamed, but as confirmed by our finding you in their custody, it was definitely the Order. I'm sorry."

I sit back down on the bed, or rather, crash back down on it. I feel like I've fallen into a nightmare. My whole family has been slaughtered, just like in my dream, and I can't even REMEMBER them.

"I remember the attack," I mutter, my voice shaking so badly that I don't dare speak louder. I'm willing my eyes to stay dry and staring at the floor in an attempt to focus on something harmless. "I thought it was just a nightmare."

"You do?" he asks, trying and failing not to sound delighted. "That's a good sign. You may recover yet… let me relate to you some basic information about yourself, we will see if any of it resonates. I'm afraid all we have on you is very impersonal, the kind of things you would find on a file card, but..."

I don't want to hear anymore right now. What I'd really like is for him to shut up. I'm saved by a new knock on the door.

"Doctor?" a voice calls. "He's awake, is he? How is he doing?"

My eyes widen. I recognize the voice and now that I'm actively listening to them, I recognize his vital signs as well. I've heard him on TV often enough – his is arguably the most annoying voice in the world, and among the most hated, thanks to Order propaganda.

The Cobra Commander himself is outside the door – the man behind the most successful force against the Order, an organization most people mistakenly believe to be evil itself because they are usually blamed for the Order's own actions.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Sorry about the abrupt break. Same old story as usual: this part was too long to post in one go without killing my buffer, especially considering I'm trying hard to update weekly.

What do you think? This part was difficult to write, and I'd love to know what works and what doesn't.

A few quick notes:

1) The size of the Arashikage clan: this is not a continuity error, Cobra just lied for added drama.

2) Storm Shadow automatically starts introducing himself by giving his family name first. This is the normal way to do it in Japan, and considering how confused he is, I think he can be excused for forgetting to switch the order around for the benefit of the person he was talking to.

3) The Order: this is just something I got Cobra to come up with. It does not match any existing theory on secret World Ruling Organizations, or if it does, it's purely accidental. This story takes place in a fictional Universe, and in that Universe, the Order is fictional.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The doctor gets the door and the Cobra Commander steps in. He's wearing his trademark metal mask and blue uniform, complete with the red Cobra logo. I'm so awed by his arrival that for one precious moment, what I just found out takes the backstage in my mind... only for guilt to jerk me back to Earth and to more worthy concerns than celebrity gawking.

"Yes, Commander," the doctor says, "as you can see, he's awake. It seems like we interrupted the treatments towards the end of the first phase."

The Commander nods curtly and turns towards me.

"Has the doctor told you what you were and how you ended up here? I'm assuming you don't actually remember."

It takes a conscious effort to keep my expression calm. Neither of them seems to have much sympathy to waste on me. I suppose I wouldn't either if I remembered everything I must have witnessed the Order do.

"He's told me I was a member of a ninja clan, the Arashikage, who were wiped out by the Order. I remember the name as mine, and I remember bits and pieces of the attack, but I don't actually remember any…" my throat closes up and I have to stop.

"I'm sorry," he says mechanically.

"I don't remember anyone," I finish.

"I'm sure it still hurts."

This last comment pushes me over the edge. He doesn't understand: I've lost them completely, I can't even honour their memory, and he thinks that makes it hurt less. I'm on my feet, holding him by the front of his shirt one inch from the floor before I even realize what I'm doing. I release him and back up, shaking in anger.

"It's the worst part of it," I snarl. "I can't even miss them. I just found out my whole family is dead, but they're just a blank to me! I should be devastated, but I'm just angry! Don't you have any idea how insulting this must be to them? And just to top things off, the Order tried to turn me into their slave!" My tone has been creeping up, and I'm yelling by the time he interrupts me.

"Speaking of which, you DO realize you were lucky, do you not? If we hadn't managed to rescue you, you'd probably not even remember you ever HAD a family, and the Order would be using you to commit the exact same kind of atrocities on their other opponents, or even on innocents."

The only response that comes to mind is to break everything in sight, including anybody stupid enough not to get out of the way. I don't remember ever being this angry – but of course, I wouldn't. I clench my fists, close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. As cold as they seem, these people rescued me: they deserve gratitude, not my throwing a fit.

"Join us," the Commander says when I look at him again. "Help us stop them."

The offer helps me focus and think of where I should go from here. The answer presents itself almost automatically: I need to avenge my family. Nothing must distract me from that until it's done, until I've killed every last one of the Joes and whoever sent them. Doing that would be a lot easier as a member of Cobra than on my own: they have the resources to help me hunt down the Joes. I don't want to join under false pretences, however, and I don't actually care about saving the world from the Order right now.

"You don't want me. I would only be joining for my own selfish reasons," I say. "GI Joe slaughtered my family, and the Order killed them again by making me forget them. I MUST avenge them."

He actually laughs. My eyes narrow and the doctor elbows him to get him to be serious again.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at your motivations, it's just… how many genuine heroes do you think the world holds? How many of them aren't happily extinguishing fires or some such, blissfully unaware of the Order? Most people here aren't selfless souls dedicating their lives to save the world. They all have their own reasons for helping me, and for several of them, that reason is nothing more than money. I don't care: I can't afford to pick and choose, and even if I could, I'd be quite happy to have you. I see nothing wrong with wanting justice. However, just because I don't care what your motivations are doesn't mean I don't care what you do. If you do join, you will have to obey me, in everything. Absolute discipline is the only way for me to have any control over this organization."

I take a moment to think about it. I'm not sure how I feel about placing myself under anyone's authority, but I couldn't ask for a better employer to help me achieve my goal than the most powerful anti-Order organization in the world.

"Promise me you will never fail to give me every opportunity to face the Joes, and in exchange, I will be your most loyal subject."

"It's a deal," he says, sounding perfectly delighted. "Now, Arashikage-san, let's see if I've hired a ninja. Come to the gymnasium: I'll get you to spar with a few other men, shoot a few arrows or those little ninja stars or something, and we'll see if your skills are indeed intact."

His addressing me by my family name reminds me that it's all I know of my actual identity. The doctor seems to read my expression correctly.

"I don't think I got around to telling you your name yet, have I? According to our files, it's Thomas S. You are usually referred to as Tommy, and we have records of Tomisaburo being used by some of your Japanese relatives, so we figure your middle name is Saburo."

I nod. It doesn't ring a bell, but at least it doesn't feel wrong, either.

"Speaking of names," the Commander pipes in, turning his head around from the doorway to look at me, "I imagine you wouldn't want the name Arashikage to stop being used altogether, but I must warn you we mostly have English speakers here. It WILL get mangled quite horribly."

I nod again. He's pronouncing it wrong himself.

"Most of my higher rankings associates use an English code name. It helps with our image, so I would prefer you do as well – maybe a translation of your own name? Does it have one? I mean, does it mean anything?"

"Arashi means storm, kage means shadow," I answer. "It could mean many things."

"Ah, see? Even I was pronouncing it wrong." He chuckles. "Let's see… Storm and Shadow…" he muses. "How about Storm Shadow? It's nice and short, and where it's a literal translation, it's almost as good as using the original name, don't you think?"

I shrug; I don't really care what others call me. I would prefer he didn't call me something involving the S sound – he hisses horribly – but it doesn't seem worth protesting about.

"Well, it's settled then: Storm Shadow. Follow me."

I follow him, trying to think, on the way, of any fighting technique I might remember. By the time we make it to the gym, it's clear to me that I remember everything I've ever learned – not only is there no sense of anything missing, I remember an insane amount of katas, fighting techniques, hypnosis methods, self-control exercises and techniques, weapon techniques, and a lot of things on using my hearing - and to a lesser degree, my other senses - over my sight. I feel downright invincible, a feeling helped further by the doctor calling me the best ninja in the world earlier.

The troops snap to standing attention when he enters the gym. The Commander turns towards me and wait. I lean against the wall: I will not follow the same protocols the Order follows.

"You have my loyalty," I whisper, "but I will NOT play soldier. Ever."

He turns back to his troops.

"This is our newest recruit:" he announces, "Storm Shadow. As you can see, he's exempt of certain protocols – I have my reasons for that and will not suffer questions or attempts at skipping protocols from anyone else."

The troops eye me curiously. I straighten up to face them properly and nod at them.

"Storm Shadow is the sole survivor of the Arashikage, and the Order was in the process of flipping him when we rescued him. As a result, he doesn't remember anything about his past."

"Must you give my biography to everyone?" I ask in a whisper.

"Because of this," he continues, ignoring me, "I need to test whether he has retained any of his former skills. Any volunteer? Obviously, this will remain gentle – I don't want any injuries."

I snort: almost everyone took a step back the instant the Commander said the word "volunteer". The Commander is not nearly as amused as I am: he turns to one of several people wearing a different uniform than the standard blue.

"Zartan," he hisses, "don't be such a yellow belly and come here."

Zartan's heart rate immediately triples and he backs up another step.

"My back is injured," he lies.

I roll my eyes at him.

"If you want to test me, Commander, you should put me up against a man, not a mouse. As a matter of fact, you should just tell them all to attack me and be done with it."

The Commander cocks his head at me.

"Oh? Well, if you insist… you heard him people, give him a lesson in humility!"

They try, but every move, every choice of strategy, comes to me automatically, and it feels as though they're moving in slow motion. Even though there are about thirty of them against only one of me, they don't stand a chance.

By the time the last one retreats and surrenders, the Commander is clapping heartily.

"Splendid!" he cackles. "You're even better than I thought!"

He guides me to the target range next and gets me to try a bow. My first arrow not only reaches the center of the first target, but goes straight through it. I smirk at the Commander.

"How much more of your time do you want to waste on tests?" I ask him.

"This is no waste of time," he hisses. "Even if I was as sure as you are that you haven't lost any of your former skills, I'd still need to know just what you can do."

By the end of the day, he's had me try dozens of weapons, run as fast as I could, do some acrobatics – I asked him whether he was going to get me to dance, too, at that point – and finally, fight blind against a dozen armed opponents.

The end result is that he's rightfully impressed, and I'm quite pleased to confirm to myself that I have the power to make GI Joe pay for their crimes.

* * *

The following days are much less eventful. The Commander appoints me as one of his bodyguards, but he rarely feels the need for my presence and I'm mostly left to my own devices. I use the time to train: just because I'm already great doesn't mean I can't be better, and the better I am, the more damage I can do to the Order in general and GI Joe in particular.

Doctor Mindbender sees me once a day and tries to jog my memory and to fill in the gaps, but as he admitted himself when I first woke up, all he knows about me is very basic file information. He knows my parents died before the attack on the clan, but doesn't know what they were like. He knows I'm not married, but he doesn't know why. When I asked him about the symbol I have tattooed on my right arm, he told me that Cobra believes it to be a popular ninja symbol. Going against my own guess, he confirmed they are quite certain it has nothing to do with the Arashikage in particular.

This goes on for nearly a month. By the time the Commander finally announces we're crashing the UN convention the following morning, I'm so frantic for action that it's all I can do not to shout for joy.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

On the awesomeness of ninjas: I like my ninjas slightly over the top (as you may have noticed). Storm Shadow in particular is among the bests and a specialist of multi-opponents fights, as he demonstrated back in the first few chapters. Between that and the fact Cobra troopers are for the most part not precisely stellar fighters, he can certainly take on thirty unarmed ones, especially in a room crowded with equipment, where they're all in each other's way.

Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The convention, as per usual, is in New York. The US military has been charged with security, and the whole area around the UN building is crawling with soldiers.

The attack's primary objective is to strike fear into the heart of the Order, the various governments that submit to it, the soldiers who defend it, and the citizens who may one day choose to become soldiers if we don't convince them otherwise. Therefore, subtlety is out of the question.

We march in formation right down the street, and we start shooting as soon as the soldiers are within sight. I'm the only one using arrows, and I've had to endure the rest of the troops making fun of me all the way here.

Once we get started, the mockeries stop. Their bullets don't make it out of each soldier they shoot because they can barely get through their bullet proof vests and unlike me, they don't aim well enough to shoot the unprotected necks and eyes. In comparison, each of my arrows goes through my primary targets and kills at least one more soldier.

I put my bow away when we get close enough for my swords. I unsheathe both of them and while the rest of the troops continue to waste half their bullets on armour, I start slicing through the soldiers.

I'm not sure how long we fight. Despite the fact these soldiers aren't GI Joe, they still work for the Order through the American Government, and I expected to savour every death. Instead, I find myself on autopilot and I kill my opponents as fast as I can because every instinct I have is screaming at me to dedicate every instant not spent on keeping myself unharmed to eliminating as many threats as I can. I hear some people screaming about GI Joe from time to time and guess that they're coming in as reinforcements against us.

Everything I do is so automatic and so easy that it soon feels like I'm watching someone else fight in a choreography. Until, that is, I find myself barely dodging a series of bullets aimed at my legs and before I even know I've thrown it, hearing the shuriken I threw at the gun those bullets came from connect with another one in mid-air without reaching its target.

The rest of the battle stops existing as I focus on the shooter. My eyes widen when I get a look at him and pick up his individual pulse and breathing: I know him.

I'm sure I know him. I have no idea who he is, but there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that he's someone from my past, one of the memories I've lost. I spot the GI Joe logo on his chest and I clench my teeth.

Logically, all I can conclude is that I saw him when my family was slaughtered; that I noticed him because he killed many people or because he was the one to bring me down. If that's the case, I have more motivation than I could ever need to not let him defeat me again.

That is NOT who he is, however. I'm convinced of it. He's not my enemy, or at least he shouldn't be. I spot the symbol on his shoulder, the same as on my forearm, and again, despite Cobra's certainty that it's only a generic ninja symbol not known to be associated with the Arashikage, I'm just not sure they're right.

While I'm trying to figure him out, he's attacking me, helped by a red headed girl that I only notice when I have to block one of her bolts, quickly followed by a few throwing stars. The fact her shots were aimed at my throat draws my attention to the fact his are targeted at my limbs.

Their radios cut in just as I was about to ask him who he is.

"All personnel. Change of orders for Storm Shadow: he's to be stopped at all costs. Lethal force authorized."

The man's heart rate goes up and he turns briefly to the girl. He speeds up his attacks, forcing me to concentrate on him and allowing her to step back.

"Duke?" She calls. "Engaging Storm Shadow now. Snake Eyes is requesting confirmation of orders."

"He did most of this," the radio answers to both of them. "You had it right before, Snake Eyes, and you can tell me 'I told you so' as much as you want later. Right now, I want Storm Shadow stopped."

The red head clenches her teeth and mutters that it explains the blood. The one I know - Snake Eyes, apparently, though the name doesn't ring a bell – tenses and his pulse accelerates. He takes a single deep breath and starts attacking me again, much more ferociously than before. So much so, in fact, that he's endangering me. My eyes widen in surprise.

He's better than me? He's actually beating me? Didn't the Doctor say I was the best?

I try to concentrate on fighting him, but my mind refuses to cooperate: he raises too many questions. I need to know why I know him, why I don't think it's because he was the one to capture me, how he can be better than me, and what that symbol means. I settle for at least trying to share my distraction and throw a knife at the red head to buy myself a second to regroup.

He deflects it with one of his own knives and charges me, backing me up several steps and positioning himself between her and me, effectively blocking her out of the fight. She apparently decides to respect his decision and goes off to make herself useful somewhere else.

"Who are you?" I cry out. "How can you be beating me? Why do I remember you?"

He stops for a fraction of a second, but recovers quickly and charges again, without answering. This is insane, he's going to kill me at this rate, and I can't even make myself think of him as an enemy, despite the fact I have no idea why.

He goes through a combo I recognize and finally, things sort of click into place – I still don't remember him, but now, I'm positive he was part of my clan. I already knew, instinctively, that the symbol we both wear does have something to do with the Arashikage, and his fighting technique, by being so similar to mine, just confirmed it.

"You're from my clan! How can you work for the Order? Did you betray us? Did you help them slaughter us?"

Even as I'm asking, I can't believe it. It's the most confusing feeling: I'm absolutely sure he'd never betray me or the clan, but I don't know why. I'm completely certain that he's very important to me, but I don't even remember anything about him.

He doesn't answer, instead continuing to attack me, but it seems I've managed to bother him – his attacks aren't quite as dangerous as they were just a moment ago. I take advantage of one of my blocks to slip a locater in one of his holsters – they're so small and quiet he's not likely to notice it, and with a bit of luck, I'll eventually catch him by himself and be able to talk to him a bit more quietly. Now if only he'd talk back… he hasn't said a word since he started fighting me, which is beyond frustrating because considering his life signs allowed me to recognize him, it seems like his voice might actually bring back some memories.

I'm about to demand he say something, anything, when the Commander's voice rings through my receiver, ordering retreat.

"That means you too, Storm Shadow!" he even specifies.

"We'll talk again," I promise the man in black.

I throw a smoke bomb under our feet and take off.

We scatter in several directions, and the soldiers are stuck choosing which groups to follow. Only a few of us, like myself, have instructions to go back to the Fortress immediately, provided we're not followed. The rest are to rendezvous in Springfield in a few days, once they're sure they've shaken off any pursuers.

* * *

I head for the Commander's office as soon as I'm back in the fortress, barely aware of the discomfort caused by the blood coating me and making my uniform stick to my skin. His door is opened, so I walk straight in.

"Commander…" I start.

"Storm Shadow!" he interrupts me. "Come in, come in! I was going to send for you. Sit down!"

He sounds so insanely happy that I'm taken aback and I sit down.

"Remind me never to let you quit," he cackles. "I had people relating everything to me during the battle. You did good, today. You did wonderful. You were amazing!"

"About today…" I try again.

"Are you satisfied? If you've had enough, I'll understand. I mean, I'm going to talk your ears off until you agree to continue helping us, but…"

It's my turn to interrupt him.

"Satisfied? The Joes only showed up at the end. Random soldiers aren't my target. Today was just about hurting the Order, not revenge."

"And you've certainly hurt them," he says, sounding perfectly delighted. "I was asking because from what we know and told you, you have 214 people whose deaths you wish to punish the Order for, and I'm told you must have personally killed at least that many soldiers."

My eyes widen: it didn't seem like that many at the time. No wonder I'm so covered and this Duke character issued specific orders to kill me. I can't help being very pleased with myself: that's 200 less soldiers helping the Order starve at least that many children to death _daily_.

"I've promised myself that the Joes would all die, and anybody commanding them in the Order," I state. "Those soldiers were just a bonus. That's not why I wanted to talk to you. One of the Joes…"

"Snake Eyes," the Commander interrupts me again. "I'm told he gave you trouble? He's a ninja too, I'm sure you've noticed. Don't worry about it, he took you by surprise. I'm sure you'll be able to dispose of him next time, and it doesn't take away from everything else you've accomplished today."

I do wish he'd let me talk. Between people who won't say a word and people who won't shut up, I'm starting to feel distinctly annoyed. The fact he's obviously lying about being sure I'll get him next time doesn't help, either. I was told I was the best, and finding someone better than me is downright infuriating. I force myself to stay calm so that I can explain myself rationally.

"He's from my clan," I announce. "He HAS to be, I recognized his technique and he knew mine. Also…" I remove the blood soaked band of fabric on my right forearm to reveal my tattoo. "…he wears this symbol on his shoulder and I'm sure it is NOT generic. I'm sure it's unique to the Arashikage."

"The fact that Snake Eyes wears this symbol is the very reason I thought it could not possibly be linked to the Arashikage," the Commander says. "You're absolutely sure of this?"

I nod firmly.

"Then he must have betrayed your clan a while ago. He's been with GI Joe for years."

I shake my head and I get up to start pacing: it looks a bit more dignified than wringing my hands.

"No. I know this is not going to sound very convincing, but I beg of you to trust me on this. He can't have betrayed us; I just know he wouldn't have. Besides, why would he wear our symbol if he had turned his back on us?"

"Do you actually remember him? What he was like back when he was part of the Arashikage?"

"No," I admit. "But I'm still convinced he did not betray us. He was important to me, I'm sure of it. Even before I realized our techniques matched, I recognized him."

"You're right: none of this is particularly convincing," he remarks. "More importantly, do you realize what you're implying?"

I nod again.

"He was flipped. He's even better than me, so it's not surprising the Order was interested in him. For all we know, it could be one of the reasons the Arashikage was so determined to undo the Order: because they took him from us."

"It wasn't. The Arashikage has been fighting the Order since before you were even born. Just the same, if he is indeed not a traitor by nature and is in fact a former member of your clan, his having been brainwashed into serving the Order is a distinct possibility. It's also a big problem: we've never been able to undo a full programming. You know better than anyone else that we can't even reconstruct the memories the Order wipes away… we've tried before, but we never even got close to undoing a complete flip. If that IS what happened to him, the best thing to do would be to put him out of his misery."

"I will NOT kill him, and I won't let anyone else do it either," I snarl. "He's my brother, and I WILL. SAVE. HIM!"

I accent each of the last few words by slamming my fists on his desk, and my face is inches from his mask. To his credit, he doesn't flinch.

After a few moments, he nods.

"Bring him here, and we'll do everything we can. I wouldn't worry about anyone killing him: we've been trying for years, and as you can see, he's still quite healthy."

I bow to him and leave, satisfied.

* * *

I keep close track of Snake Eyes' location through the next couple of days, but he never leaves the GI Joe base.

Both as a mean to keep myself distracted rather than hopping around impatiently waiting for a chance to talk to him again, and in the hope of faring better against him next time if I have to fight him again, I'm training even harder than I did for my first month here.

Most of the troops avoid me, so I usually have the gym to myself. On the third morning after I faced my brother, however, Zartan strolls in and although he stops dead in his tracks upon spotting me, he eventually stops staring at me, snorts and walks over.

"You're not going to run off if I talk to you or look at you, are you?" I ask him without pausing. I'm just lifting weights right now, and to be honest, I could use what little entertainment I may get from making fun of him: my mind has been focusing more on my poor brother than on my training this morning.

He chuckles. "Nah. I'm over that. You want to spar?"

I laugh. "I think I'd get more of a workout from the punching bag."

"I'm not THAT bad," he huffs. "I was hoping you'd teach me some moves."

I pause, taken aback. Logically, I should tell him to bugger off – I have better things to do with my time than attempt to make him a bit less useless. So why don't I? Why am I tempted to accept? I can't be THAT desperate for company, can I?

"Heh," he chuckles. "You know why you want to? It's not because you like me, obviously."

I frown at him. "I can see no reason to agree to waste my time on you."

"But you want to anyway, because you're a teacher at heart. I bet Mindbender and the Commander didn't tell you that, did they?"

It rings true, but given the source, I choose to just not believe it.

"And how would YOU know?" I sneer. "I hardly think I was a teacher: I wouldn't have attracted the attention of the Order if all I did was teach."

He rolls his eyes. "Why else would you be trying to bring Snake Eyes back to his senses? Same reason you don't want him harmed. You're no warrior, you're a nanny. I'm guessing he used to be your student. You're like the mother hen protecting her chick."

I put my weights down and get up, facing him. After the battle at the United Nations, there is absolutely no way anyone smarter than a slug would think I'm not a warrior, whether I'm also a teacher or not. Even he can't be that stupid. Therefore, he's just trying to provoke me into fighting with him.

"I will rescue Snake Eyes from the Order because he and I are the last two members of our clan. I have no idea what our respective positions were. For all I know, HE was MY teacher. It doesn't matter. The rest of my family was murdered, quite possibly just because the Order wanted me, and not only could I not save them, I can't even properly honour their memory because I HAVE no memory of them to honour. I have only one brother left; I WILL get him back."

I walk up to him as I'm talking. He doesn't move, standing his ground and looking down his nose at me with a mocking smile. I swipe his legs and before he's done falling, help him down with a rough shove on his midsection. He grunts and glares at me from the floor.

"This is the only lesson you get," I say. "Don't leave your guard down just because it looks cooler than a defensive stance."

I step over him to leave the gym: I have no desire to stay around him any longer.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In canon (IIRC), Cobra Commander doesn't often do things that actually involve killing a lot of people, but realistically, he would do just that at least every now and then. I see some of the objectives of this particular stunt actually being fairly close to what Storm Shadow thinks they are: intimidation and terror.

You will eventually find out what's going on in Snake Eyes' head each time the two meet. I promise, his level of determination to kill Storm Shadow only LOOKS random. You can already safely assume he's not so stunned as to not realize Storm Shadow has suddenly stopped making any sense since he's escaped Alkatraz.

I don't have much else to say on this part, except I love making fun of Zartan, so you can be certain that this is not the last time. :D

Speaking of Zartan, not that it's particularly important, but can you guess what he's up to, trying to point out Storm Shadow likes teaching? Are you thinking it'd be wiser for him NOT to do anything that may help Storm Shadow remember his past? If you really want to know, you can check out the explanation in chapter 5 of Bonuses, on fanfiction dot net.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

My patience in tracking Snake Eyes is finally rewarded later that day: he leaves the pit and ends up in a residential neighborhood. He stays put for a few minutes in a convenience store, not even browsing around, and I decide to take my chances. I idly wonder why he has his gun holster while he's out and about, but brush the question aside - he's probably instructed to have his weapons with him at all time simply so he'll always be ready for action.

I pull on a long trench over my uniform and weapons, stuff my mask in a pocket, and walk to the garage with nobody so much as asking me where I'm headed – even before the battle, most of the troops had a tendency to steer clear of me, and it's been even worse since then. The Commander and the Doctor are the only ones who don't perpetually act as though they think I'm about to jump for their throats, which, to me, more than makes up for their lack of actual sympathy for me.

In this case, however, being ignored is a welcomed bonus. I have the distinct feeling that if anybody knew I'm about to go confront the one person who seems able to defeat me in combat, they'd inform the Commander and I'd promptly be ordered to stop being stupid and to stay put or bring reinforcements. As it is, I drive right out of the fortress without being bothered.

I find a parking spot in a reasonably quiet area, change and head for the convenience store where my brother still is. He's moved to the counter since I've left the fortress, and he leaves just as I round the corner. He spots me, which suits me just fine – I wouldn't have made a point of wearing my full Cobra uniform if I'd wanted to hide from him. He casually walks towards me, taking his sword out as though it was the most natural thing in the world and when he gets within a few steps of me, he tosses me the locator I had left in his holster before assuming a dueling stance.

"I suppose I should thank you for accepting my invitation," I say with a sigh. "Won't you talk?"

He tightens his grip on his sword and still doesn't say anything.

"Fine," I snarl, unsheathing one of my own swords. "If I have to beat some sense into you, I will!"

This turns out to be a rather poor move. He's on me before I can blink, and I just manage to stop his sword from slicing my arm. I counter with a kick, he dips under my foot and kicks off my other leg. I bounce off his back and land a step away from him, just in time to deflect three shurikens and a dagger to the ground.

I need to get him away from all the civilians around here. If he keeps throwing stuff at me, I won't always be able to choose where I deflect it. I rush him and, much to my delighted surprise, he backs up right away. I slow down enough to allow him to turn around and he runs off, turning once to make sure I'm following.

I end up chasing him for a while, and I have to run as fast as I can not to lose sight of him. Isn't that lovely… he fights better than me and he runs faster, too. It'd be grating enough if I didn't need to gain the upper hand on him; as it is, it's close to intolerable.

I finally catch up just as he jumps on the roof of a city train. These things are solid steel, and we're unlikely to get our weapons through it accidentally. I assume a duel stance again.

"Do you even know why you're fighting?" I ask him. "Don't you remember what that symbol on your shoulder means? You're being used, Brother! And now, the Order has you fighting the only member of your clan, your family, that they haven't already murdered!"

He interrupts me by attacking again. I hear the air whistling well behind me: we're approaching a tunnel. I decide to see whether Snake Eyes still really wants to kill me, or whether I've gotten through to him a bit.

I continue to block his attacks and keep talking, pretending to be oblivious to the tunnel we're approaching.

"They attacked our home a little over a month ago, and killed everyone! The men, the women, the children… they left no one alive, except me, because they wanted to do the same thing to me as they have done to you! Were you there? How do you justify killing a whole clan? Don't you see you're being fooled? You're working for the bad guys!"

He still doesn't say anything.

"Can you talk at all?" I ask him, wondering for the first time whether there may be a very simple reason for his silence.

He shakes his head. The tunnel is approaching fast now. I'm going to have to dive if he doesn't do anything.

He suddenly runs and dives straight at me, knocking me down between two wagons. I scramble out from under him and, trying hard not to grin because it would show in my eyes, I stare up and pretend to be surprised by the tunnel.

"You saved my life…"

I get up and sheathe my sword. He interprets the gesture completely wrong and instead of trying to communicate, he jumps off as soon as we clear the tunnel. I debate following him and decide against it – I'd rather give him a chance to think about what I said than turn him over to the somewhat less than gentle Mindbender just yet.

* * *

I return to my room when I get back at the fortress, intent on changing before going for a run outside unless the Commander left a message requesting my presence. Whatever I used to do before I was captured, it must have been a busy life – I just can't seem to just sit still and relax.

I find Destro and the Baroness waiting just outside my room and frown at them, puzzled. Neither of them has said a word to me since I was introduced to them about a month ago, so what do they want now? What is it about today that everybody wants to talk to me and the only person I do want to have a chat with turns out to be mute? I suddenly get the idea that rather than go for a run, I should study sign language.

The Baroness turns towards me and gives me her best smile. Obviously, they want something.

"We haven't had a chance to get properly acquainted yet, Storm Shadow," she says, walking towards me until she's just a bit too close. I back up a step and smirk.

"Funny how avoiding someone like the plague is not conductive to building strong relationships."

"You have no idea how intimidating you are," Destro chimes in, walking to stand next to her. He puts an arm around her waist, as if to establish that I had better continue to not flirt with her. I snort, as much at his comment as at his possessiveness.

"Is it he same for you as for Zartan then?" I ask. "You're suddenly over it?"

"Would that be a bad thing?" the Baroness asks, batting her eyelashes.

Destro stiffens next to her and I can't resist playing along.

"I certainly wouldn't complain about YOU being 'over' me, Baroness."

She laughs and Destro snarls.

"Enough fooling around," he growls. "We were simply curious whether the rumours about Snake Eyes were true."

"They say he's actually an Arashikage too, like you, and that you will try to get him away from GI Joe," the Baroness says.

I nod.

"You have no idea how much this would mean to the Commander and the rest of us… his closer associates, I mean," Destro says. "Snake Eyes has been our most dangerous enemy for years. The very reason the Commander risked so much to free you was that he needed you to counter him, not end up helping him. He had been in discussion with the Arashikage to hire you for a while before they were attacked: that's why he has such detailed files on you."

I raise an eyebrow: the Commander never mentioned any of this before. Destro interprets my reaction correctly and his eyes widen, although judging by his breathing and heart rate, he's not actually surprised at all.

"You didn't know the Commander hired you as a… Snake Eyes shield, so to speak?"

I roll my eyes at him. The Commander is right to insist on maintaining perfect discipline with people like these two around – it couldn't possibly be more obvious that Destro and the Baroness are trying to shift my loyalties from the Commander to themselves. I answer slowly, with a measured voice designed to make them think I'm trying hard not to kill them on the spot. I wouldn't, I know they're useful to Cobra, but if they're going to be like that, I think I'd prefer they stay afraid of me.

"I already knew I was rescued for the same reason the Order captured me in the first place: I'm useful. The details of what precise use the Commander had in mind are irrelevant to me. He saved me from being the Order's puppet and by allowing me to serve this organization, he's giving me the chance to avenge my family and, as it turns out, to save my brother. I owe him a debt of gratitude, regardless of whether he sees me as a person or as a weapon."

I get in my room and close the door behind me, letting them leave at their leisure. I'm starting to really feel sorry for the Commander for having to endure anybody who's willing to help, no matter how despicable they are.

* * *

Several days go by without much happening, and I feel like my plans for vengeance are going nowhere fast. I'm also growing increasingly anxious to find out whether Snake Eyes is starting to break free of his conditioning.

Therefore, when the Commander calls for me, Zartan and one trooper unit, I'm practically shaking with anticipation - despite the idea of having to endure Zartan's company.

I'm the first one there and the Commander nods towards a chair in greeting. I sit down and stare at him until he starts fidgeting and coughs.

"You're worst than a child, sometimes, Storm Shadow," he hisses. "Yes, we're about to fight GI Joe. Happy? Can you wait for the others before hearing the details?"

I grin and nod. A dozen troopers arrive together less than a minute later and go stand in the back of the office like statues, waiting for their orders. Zartan finally strolls in a few minutes after that, smiles, waves at everyone and sits down.

"What took you so long, Zartan?" the Commander asks. "I find your lack of eagerness lately… surprising."

"I wanted to grab this," Zartan replies, holding up a small device. "It's my new cloak, Commander. I thought you'd like a demonstration."

The Commander hesitates a moment, seemingly caught between the desire to see the demonstration and the need to berate Zartan for his tardiness.

"Don't make we wait like this again," he finally hisses, "but since you brought the thing, let's see it."

Zartan gets up and presses a button on the device. Almost instantly, he disappears from view. He starts walking around, apparently intent on surprising the Commander by reappearing somewhere else. The Commander, apparently intent on raining on his parade a bit, leans back on his chair and instructs me to turn the cloak off.

I walk up to Zartan and grab the device out of his hand, guided by the slight buzzing sound it makes. He reappears, but my own hand does not disappear – apparently, the cloak only works for him.

Zartan glares at me. I snort at him before I return the device. He briefly turns invisible again before turning it off. He then turns to the Commander, practically pouting.

"It would work against anyone else," he says. "I bet even _he_ couldn't actually _see_ me."

"True," I sneer, "but I'm pretty sure at least a few other people in the World can hear footsteps. You may want to wear softer soles."

Zartan glares at me.

"I do NOT walk loudly. You just watch… we're about to take on GI Joe, aren't we? You'll see how well my cloak works against them. I think I'll be depriving you of a few kills, Arashikage-san."

He says the name in such a sneering tone that although he actually pronounces it properly and even adds an appropriate honorific, it sounds like some kind of mockery. I interpret it as his making fun of the fact my family name means nothing anymore, even to me. My sword is out and on his throat instantly.

"Apologize," I growl.

He's shaking, and yet he still attempts to save his pride: he smirks. I glare at him.

"Now," I insist. "I won't ask a third time."

He rolls his eyes.

"Fine, fine. Sorry, Mr. Sensitivity," he says with a sigh.

I don't move, intent on getting an apology for THAT, too, but the Commander intervenes.

"Enough. Storm Shadow, don't you know better by now than to pay attention to what he says? Zartan, stop being yourself for a few minutes, will you? Good," he finishes without actually waiting for an answer.

I put my sword back in its sheath without another glance at Zartan and sit down.

The Commander rests his elbows on his desk and puts his hands together in a stereotypical scheming position that I would find funny if I wasn't so anxious to hear whatever it is he's going to say, and for him to be done saying it so we can get going. The days of relative inactivity between each of our actions aren't helping my patience levels at all.

"GI Joe has been asked to provide security for a team of scientists working on what the media describes as human genome research and what I suspect is actually experiments in creating super soldiers. Other groups have already made threats against this project, which is actually the reason GI Joe is there. We are going to destroy the labs and attempt to capture the scientists. With any luck, they will accept to work for us from now on. Otherwise, we can't let them live – they could make the Order too powerful."

Zartan rolls his eyes at this point, and the Commander's hands tense.

"What is it, Zartan?" I ask. "You wish you could kill them right away rather than have to take them prisoner?"

Zartan shrugs without answering.

The Commander fakes a cough and resumes talking.

"The laboratory is within the Xavier Medical Engineering Complex, and the floor plans indicate we won't have much room to manoeuvre, which is why we're the only ones going. After we destroy the lab, I will broadcast a public message to expose what the Order was really doing and impress upon them that Cobra will always be in their way. You two:" he says directly to Zartan and myself, "go get whatever you want to bring, we leave in five minutes. Meet us in the garage, we're taking the bus."

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Did I mention before that keeping Storm Shadow's hearing consistent is sometimes a pain in the neck? Yep, that tunnel is another example. At least it was simple enough to make him test Snake Eyes so that our heroic black-clad ninja could still show off how good and noble he is.

Next time: Zartan gets to show off his cloak, Storm Shadow gets to show off he's still the best at SOME things and Snake Eyes triggers… something.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

A mere hour later, we're walking into the building, heading for the lab.

We create quite the panic. The place is full of people, most of them in lab coats, and every last one of them screams at the sight of us before running in the opposite direction. Zartan chuckles, like the oversized playground bully he is.

But then, we round a corner and instead of more scientists, we come face to face with a large group of Joes, among which Snake Eyes and the red head I saw with him before. Zartan stops laughing, turns on his cloak and takes off towards them. They take out their guns and I take out my bow, grinning from ear to ear.

I lose my smile when the Commander grabs my arm with a shaky hand. I glance at him but before he can say anything, I throw him on the floor to dodge a volley of bullets and drag him behind the troops, who are already firing at the Joes.

"What?" I ask impatiently. "What do you want?"

A trooper gasps and falls. His heart stops before he touches the floor. Another one screams and starts choking on his own blood. The Joes are screaming too and I find out why there are so many of them: one of the older ones just gave the order to get the recruits out of here – the Joes were using this babysitting mission as a training exercise.

Zartan's cloak works just as well as he expected. He's pursuing the Joes that are trying to retreat and taking them out easily. The only problem is that he's ignoring the ones that are actually shooting at our troopers.

"I was expecting a handful of Joes, not this!" the Commander hisses shakily.

I clench my jaw; he's panicking. He needs to get out of here; he's useless to us like this. And I need to go help Zartan before all our troopers are down.

"So run."

As I say it, I push him back the way we came. Another trooper has fallen in the time it took us to exchange these few words. I turn to the Joes, my bow still in hand, and shoot between two of our troopers. My arrow goes through the throat of one soldier and that of another one right behind him. I reload before they're done crumbling and shoot again, this time taking out an older soldier equipped with some kind of goggles – heat vision would be my guess - who was sneaking up on Zartan.

The Commander grips my arm before I can reload again. I notice that we're down to four troopers, and one of them gets shot in the head just as I turn towards the Commander.

"Help me," he begs. "Get me out of here. I can't do it by myself!"

I curse. Three Joes! I only got three! At this rate, it will take me the rest of my life to see them all dead! At the same time, without the Commander and Cobra, my chances for revenge are just about nil.

"Fine," I growl, grabbing the Commander and running off, leaving our three remaining troopers to prove they're better than their comrades or to get themselves killed. I hear them die before we're out of my hearing range, and the Joes start running towards us. I peel my ears as I run for the sound of Zartan or Snake Eyes, and find them almost next to each other, with nobody else left around: Snake Eyes is taking him on.

I smirk as I run. I can't say I'll miss Zartan.

* * *

The Joes never catch me. I thought Snake Eyes would, but Zartan must have been able to slow him down more than I expected. I practically throw the Commander in the bus's driver's seat.

"I've been with you for over a month and so far, you've made me run each time I've met the Joes," I growl. "I'm not happy, Commander."

He turns the key in the ignition, ignoring me.

"Go get Zartan back. I don't want the Joes to capture him and figure out that cloak of his."

I snarl under my mask, but I don't have time to reply – a door opens behind us and guns start firing. The Commander drives off while I dodge the bullets and turn to face the Joes. It seems they've split up at some point – a good fifteen were pursuing us at first, but there are only five of them now. It's not much, but it still almost triples my score for today – better than nothing.

They're just staring at me as I take out two shurikens, seemingly shocked that I'm not falling over with a few smoking holes in me. This, coupled with the fact they're all wearing the same non-descript uniform, identifies them as some of the rookies.

"You were supposed to be retreating, weren't you? But you saw us and thought you'd be heroes."

My voice breaks them out of their trance and they start shooting at me again. I run between the bullets and towards them, throwing my shurikens at the eyes of the two best shooters.

The silvery stars burst their eyeballs and slice through their ocular orbits, burying themselves in their brains. They collapse without a sound. The other three, finally showing some professionalism, continue to shoot at me.

I throw more shurikens, this time aiming for their hands. I frown, puzzled at myself: I have no idea why I didn't aim to kill. I put it on account of reflex and brush it off.

The Joes scream and one of them passes out when their guns fall off along with their trigger fingers. I stop a step in front of the other two and glare at them.

"Only the fact you are too green and too hopeless to have possibly been involved with the murder of my family saves you from the slowest, most painful death I could give you today," I growl.

They try to back away, but only get to take two steps before they hit the wall of the building they just came out of. They try the door - which doesn't open - and freeze, out of option, out of hope. They whimper and one of them wets his pants. The other one extends his hands towards me, one of them dripping from where his pointer finger used to be, palms facing me in a supplication to stop.

I unsheathe my katana and decapitate both of them with one swipe. I plunge the blade in the heart of the one that passed out and let out a sigh.

I feel no satisfaction whatsoever. Eight, five of which I'm certain did not participate in the slaughter… it's not enough, it's nothing. I feel like I'm going nowhere. I clench my jaw and force my mind back to what I'm supposed to be doing – the Joes can't get their hands on Zartan's cloak and ideally, they shouldn't be able to study him, either. Therefore, I need to go recover his body.

With a bit of luck, I'll be able to isolate Snake Eyes and try again to talk some sense back into him – his presence here and the fact he attacked Zartan doesn't leave me much hope that he remembers anything yet.

I try the door the soldiers couldn't open, and as I suspected, it opens with no difficulty – the rookies were just too shaky to manage the handle properly.

* * *

I run down the hallways, concerned against my better judgment. I can hear a battle still going on, which means Zartan is still fighting. Snake Eyes should have been able to kill him or take him prisoner by now, and I should be running to ambush him and bail the Amazing Chameleon Coward out.

Instead, they're still fighting. I pick up on Snake Eyes' movements and life signs as I get closer, and I hear Zartan chuckle and trash talk a few times. Just I as I round the last corner and find them, Zartan boasts about finally defeating the great Snake Eyes and the safety of his gun clicks.

I'm too far to shove my brainwashed brother out of the way, so I throw one of my knives at Zartan's gun, knocking it out of his grip before he actually shoots. I then take aim at him with my bow; his heart accelerates and he steps sideways. I follow him with my arrow.

"You can't actually be helping him," he growls. "This is treason, Storm Shadow!"

I ignore him.

"Snake Eyes, I hope you at least have the sense to be embarrassed. I can understand that you can't hear his heartbeat, his breathing, or the hum of his cloak. I can even admit that maybe you can't quite hear his footsteps enough to know his exact position. But for crying out loud, he hasn't even had the sense not to talk or laugh! Can't you locate a voice?"

Zartan snorts. I continue to ignore him.

"You can't be that clueless if we grew up and trained together: you MUST know the same things I know. Maybe your hearing was damaged at some point? How about your eyesight?"

I don't actually remember growing up with him, but given that he's the only person I remember at all, it seems like a logical conclusion that I've known him all my life, and seeing how good we both are, it's easy to guess that we've both been training our whole lives. Besides, I don't remember growing up without him, either.

"What are you talking about, ninja?" Zartan growls. "My cloak is perfect!"

I roll my eyes at him.

"Alright, Snake Eyes. This is your last chance to redeem yourself a teeny bit. Tell me why I can see where he is and why you should as well. I WILL tell you if you don't clue in, but if it gets to that, I promise you that you'll smack your own forehead so hard you'll knock yourself out."

"YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY SEE ME!" Zartan screams.

I expected him to remark I was teaching and to call me a mother hen again, but I guess I should have known he wouldn't be able to think of anything else than the present moment while he had an arrow pointed at him.

I pointedly continue to ignore him and glare at Snake Eyes.

He starts looking towards where I'm aiming and for a few seconds, I think I actually am going to have to tell him, but finally, his head tilts down and he sees the tiny drop of blood floating about an inch from the floor.

Zartan got a bit of someone else's blood on his boot at some point and his cloak only hides him, so the drop of blood is visible, revealing the position of his foot. Considering there are quite a few bodies around, I have to give him points for not getting more blood on himself that this small drop, but just the same, it's there.

Snake Eyes stares at it for a second before slapping his hand on his forehead. I snort, as much at his reaction as because I'm just happy about what I've just found out: he's not better than me at everything.

Zartan must have looked down too because his heart rate goes up again and he takes off. Snake Eyes starts to follow but I jump in front of him, my arrow pointing straight at his heart.

"No, brother. If you must fight, you're fighting me. At least now I know that I CAN get through that thick skull of yours."

Saying that, I put my bow away in an attempt at a truce. Because I don't expect it to work, I position my hand on the handle of my katana but to my delighted surprise, Snake Eyes goes along with the truce and rather than attacking me, he hands me a piece of paper.

"Were you losing to Zartan on purpose, just so you'd have an excuse to wait for me to come back?" I guess, ripping the envelope open. "Not that I'm complaining." I stop talking while reading, ears peeled for any sign that he's about to attack me while I'm distracted.

_You're the one who is being used. Nobody slaughtered our entire clan and there is no such thing as the 'Order'._

_You know me because we used to be best friends. We fought in the war together, and you even saved my life. You invited me to join your clan and I accepted your invitation._

_A little more than 8 years ago, your uncle (the Hard Master) was murdered. Your other uncle (the Soft Master) is certain that you were the murderer and ordered the rest of the clan to hunt you down and either kill you or bring you to him._

_I don't know how, but you ended up with Cobra. As near as I can tell, you were yourself until recently, when you were briefly held at Alcatraz. The next time I saw you, you weren't making any sense._

_Cobra is bent on World Domination. They are evil enough to have brainwashed you, but I can't figure out why if you were already working for them willingly. You mentioned when you were in Alkatraz that you needed the Commander around for about two more years._

_The Soft Master says I'm jumping to the conclusions I want to reach, but…_

I stop reading then, too angry to continue, and rip the note to shreds. GI Joe has fed him whatever lies they needed to explain my behaviour towards him. They're making him believe I'm the one who was brainwashed so that he'll try to 'rescue' me by bringing me to them.

How am I supposed to trigger his memories of me when he's convinced he remembers everything?

"More lies, brother," I snarl. "I remember the attack on our clan. I remember hearing dozens of people dying! GI Joe is trying to use you to capture me again. I'm warning you now, I won't let you. I'll try my best not to kill you or permanently disable you, but I will not let you turn me into another puppet at the service of the Order."

He shakes his head, looking completely defeated. I can sympathize with the feeling since I'm in the exact plight he only thinks he's in.

"I need to bring you to Mindbender," I say with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I know you won't come willingly, but this is for your own good."

I take my sword out and get into a dueling stance. Considering the results of our previous encounters, I would normally not even bother trying a straight one-on-one fight with him but right now, he's tired out by his fight with Zartan. I just might have a chance at defeating him and bringing him in.

He takes his sword out too, but also taps something on his hip, causing a low beep to sound from it. I recognize the sound – he's just sent an empty text message, a ping, basically. In other words, he's just called for help.

"They won't be here in time, Brother."

I charge. He blocks me but limps back a step. I glance down at his leading leg and clench my teeth: his thigh is coated in blood originating from a deep cut, no doubt inflicted by Zartan; I didn't notice before because the blood is not showing much on the black of his uniform. His putting weight on it causes the wound to open wider and a new flow of blood pours out. He shifts his weight and if not for his pulse becoming a bit frantic, I would have no idea how badly he's hurt.

"You can't fight like this; yield. I swear to you, I only want to give you your freedom back."

He answers by taking out his gun. I dive under it and kick it out of his hand.

_I hear Snake Eyes right behind me again and his sword swishes through the air, aimed at my legs. I skip over it, barely clearing it, and roll right back to the ground, guessing he wanted me to go up. It turns out to be a good guess – he had his gun aimed up. It takes him about a quarter of a second to adjust, just enough for me to kick the gun out of his hands._

_The thought crosses my head that I should have killed him – I'm not likely to get an opening like this again and in all likeliness, I've just made my last mistake. I clench my jaw – I won't hurt him. I'm not the traitor they all think I am._

The thoughts stop me for a moment. It feels exactly like a recollection, but it makes no sense. Snake Eyes, trying to kill me because 'they' believe I'm a traitor… that never happened, I'm sure of it. I don't even know who the 'me' from this little scene means by 'they', but my guess is the rest of our clan – even though that makes even less sense than the rest of the scene.

This moment of distraction is all Snake Eyes needs. He stabs me in both my arms, near my shoulders – I see the move coming, but too late to successfully block or evade it. As much as the wounds hurt, I take comfort in the fact he could just as easily have killed me and he chose not to.

I kick him in the chest to push him back, intent on running away. I've lost my chance to beat him, I can barely move my arms anymore. If I don't run, he'll probably capture ME; I can't risk it.

He blocks the kick and kicks me in return, aiming at my knee. I sidestep and try to chop at the wound on his extended leg, but my hit is so weak he doesn't even react. He punches me in the gut, hard enough to knock the air out of me. I back up a step, bent in two, glaring at him. He kicks again, this time aiming for my face. I evade it and his radio breaks in – the voice is the red head's.

"Snake Eyes, we're on our way! We found the missing trainees… they… they ran into Storm Shadow." She pauses and coughs, in an obvious attempt at steadying her voice. "Orders stand on Zartan: capture."

The message distracts him long enough for me to get a few paces away from him, which, thanks to his injured legs, is enough: he tries to come after me but he can't run properly and he eventually tumbles, obviously weakened by the loss of blood.

I'm not doing that great on that either: my arms are bleeding like mad where he stabbed them. I need to bandage myself up, and not only because I'm leaving a trail: I can already feel myself getting weaker.

I stop as soon as I round a corner, getting out of view of Snake Eyes strictly so he won't realize what I'm doing, and use the bands on my lower arms and the bottom of my legs to wrap the wounds and stop the blood from dripping. The bandages are pathetic, thanks to the fact the blades went through muscles, nerves, ligaments and bones and that ninja or not, I can't just will my arm to move if the muscle I need is damaged, the bone broken and the ligament torn, and my fingers can't do much of a delicate job when all I feel from them is pins and needles. Nevertheless, the bandages stop the blood from dripping, at least for now, and slow the loss.

I listen out for the Joes, and pick them up trampling towards Snake Eyes. I start running again, skip two opportunities to turn in the hope they'll assume I took them, and turn at the third chance I get, before they actually have me in sight. I come upon a set of stairs, take it, and run to the other end of the building before opening a window and jumping for it.

From there, I run a few blocks before I hail a cab and head back to Springfield, altogether in an extremely bad mood. The cab driver comments on my costume being really cool and asks me if I'm going to a birthday party. I tell him that I am because I have no reason not to use a cover so graciously offered, and proceed to ignore him the rest of the way.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

This scene is here for therapeutic reasons. I just had to do something about the fight between a cloaked but chatty and grass trampling Zartan and a completely helpless Snake Eyes that occurs in Sigma Six. In the series, Spirit has to save Snake Eyes' bacon, but I had to restore Snake Eyes' honour by making Zartan much less visible (no footprints in the grass) and a bit quieter. I still couldn't resist making Storm Shadow lecture him – he doesn't get to have the upper hand on his brother very often. In Snake Eyes' defense, that drop of blood was a lot easier to spot if you already knew where Zartan was, and nothing says he didn't get ANY hit on Zartan.

Next time: more memories surface, but I think people are going to be angry with me.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Commander's mood is even worse than mine. I'm informed the moment I get back that if I'm still breathing, I'm to report to his office immediately regardless of injuries.

I make my way there and find him, unsurprisingly, in Zartan's company. Zartan is sporting several bandages and bruises, revealing Snake Eyes did not do quite as badly against him as I had thought.

"You wanted to see me," I say to the Commander.

"Zartan tells me you attacked him," the Commander hisses. "Why?"

I roll my eyes at him.

"Do you really think he would have had the chance to report it if I had attacked him? What I actually did was prevent him from killing Snake Eyes by holding him at bay. I warned you I would not let anyone kill my brother, so why do we even need to have this conversation?"

"You saved Snake Eyes' life? Where is he now?"

"I would assume back at the Pit. I could not capture him."

"How did you manage to lose a fight to him when I tired him out, punched him at least a dozen times and slashed up his leg before you stopped me?" Zartan asks, sniggering.

He quickly becomes serious again under the glare I give him.

"I want to know as well," the Commander hisses.

I feel like hissing right back, but I suppose the question IS legitimate, considering I've just basically allowed the most dangerous member of GI Joe to escape when Zartan almost had him neutralized.

"When we started fighting, I had a vision of fighting him before, at a time where he would have been trying to kill me because he and some other people, my clan, I think, thought I was a traitor. I don't think it's actually a real memory, and I don't…" I stop talking, noticing Zartan's practically having a heart attack.

"What's wrong with YOU?" I ask.

He doesn't answer, instead glaring at the Commander.

"Zartan, leave us," the Commander says. He sounds furious.

Zartan doesn't get asked twice. He scarpers out of the room without another word, and runs more than he walks down the hallway, towards the nearest exit.

"What…"

"Those events never happened. I'm sure you realize that," the Commander interrupts me.

"I don't think so either, but I have no idea why I had that vision. Maybe it's a deformed version of something that did happen?"

"Nobody from your clan was ever stupid enough to believe you a traitor. I suppose you may have fought Snake Eyes before you were captured, and that is what was used to create this memory, but the details aren't important. This vision was planted by the Order, that much is obvious."

I feel the blood drain from my face at the thought of what he's implying even before he continues with the specifics.

"They are trying to feed you bits and pieces of fictional memory in the hopes you'll believe those fragments are real and come to think WE are the ones manipulating you. They've done this before, when they couldn't actually capture the person they were trying to brainwash. Zartan has seen it happen and obviously, the thought of your fighting for the Order and against us does not agree with him. Or with you, it seems."

Indeed it doesn't; I'm having a hard time not completely panicking.

"They can do that?" I ask. It's a stupid question – he's just told me so, and I've just experienced it; yet I can't help asking.

"Yes," he says. "As long as you're aware of it, you should be able to discern your own true memories from the ones they'll try to implant, but you need to stay on your guard. It's human nature to be tempted by new knowledge and revelations, and they will use that. They will not shy away from trying to convince you of the most outrageous lies. They will send memories that completely contradict what little you do remember, with the express intention to make you question your own sanity. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do to stop them from trying. I'll be happy to answer any question you may have, at any time, but you WILL have to stay vigilant if you don't want to fall for their tricks. I'm afraid I'll also have to ask Doctor Mindbender to test you regularly, to ensure our own safety."

"You said you rescued me. You said I'd been lucky," I say accusingly. "You wanted my gratitude, so you neglected to mention the fact I was still not safe at all, is that it?"

His heart rate accelerates and he exhales sharply. I don't need to see his face to guess he's furious.

"Are you saying that the mere act of breaking into one of the Order's most secured facilities, losing many good men in the process I might add, and hauling your dead weight out of there deserves no gratitude?" he hisses. "Do you realize Mindbender spent days without sleep trying to fix the damage the Order did? I suppose that doesn't count because he wasn't successful enough for your liking? You'd still be in the coma induced by the Order if not for his efforts!"

He's pretty much screaming by the time he stops for breath. I feel like shouting right back that I didn't ask for any of that, that I've just found out the Order is still right in the middle of brainwashing me, and that I've already repaid him for whatever he's done for me. However, I feel even more like seeing a doctor to get my wounds tended to than I feel like venting or winning a pointless argument.

"I AM grateful," I say instead, keeping my tone as calm as I can. "This is just a rather nasty surprise. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need medical attention."

He huffs a few more time but finally dismisses me with a nod.

* * *

It takes almost two months for my arms to fully heal and for the doctor to clear me for action. By the end of it, I'm just about driven mad with impatience. I've learned to decipher American Sign Language, but that only used up a month. For the other four weeks, I've been basically doing nothing but physiotherapy and I'm absolutely fed up with it.

In other words, I'm in no mood for this first 'test' which the Commander demanded Mindbender give me before I'm allowed out of the fortress again.

I sit down in his office grumpily but I keep my facial expression as neutral as I can. Mindbender's not the one who decided these tests - or the restrictions on my whereabouts - were necessary.

He chuckles at me and I scowl at him, all good intentions not to project my current mood on him evaporated. He ignores the scowl.

"Impatient for some action again, are we?" he asks.

"It seems like if the Order HAD managed to convince me Cobra was actually the enemy and they the heroes, the fortress would be the LAST place the Commander would want me to be."

"Hmm. He knows you are discerning enough not to fall for their lies overnight. Keeping you here is the best way to make sure they don't succeed at making you doubt everything you know or at actually capturing you by taking advantage of any confusion. If he or I ever come to think you are likely to turn against us, we will have to adjust."

I don't need to ask him what he means by that – like I've just remarked, I'd be far too dangerous to be allowed to wander around if the Order ever succeeded in brainwashing me.

"You'd know?" I ask instead.

He chuckles again.

"You would have a hard time hiding it from me. Now, did you get any more false recollections, since the one during your fight with Snake Eyes?"

"Yes."

His heart accelerates, and he suddenly becomes more serious.

"How many?"

"That scene has extended, and there are two more. They don't confuse me, they're obviously lies."

"Can you describe them?"

I cock my head. What does HE care what the Order comes up with to try and manipulate me?

"We are always documenting their methods in our efforts to become better at countering them. Any detail you can share could turn out to be a key element in learning how to undo flips or prevent what they're trying to do to you now," he says, guessing at my unvoiced question.

He couldn't possibly have given me a better reason to relate every detail to him – I need Cobra to be able to undo the flip my brother has suffered, and I need all the help I can get to stop the Order from filling my head with lies.

"The extended one is just more of Snake Eyes fighting me," I relate. "He's trying very hard to kill me and I'm having a hard time preventing him from succeeding. All the while, I know he's doing that because he thinks I've murdered my own uncle, and I know the rest of my clan thinks the same thing, and I know I'm innocent, and…"

I stop. Despite the fact the emotions I'm describing aren't REALLY mine, I still find myself hesitant to lay them out.

"In the scene, I'm… that is, the me from the scene, the fake one… he… he can't believe Snake Eyes would actually be so set on killing him."

I clear my throat and quickly change the subject.

"I'm wearing a Cobra uniform, the same one I wear now, but I'm not happy to be working for Cobra because they are the terrorist organization the Order constantly makes them out to be and I'm only with them because I think it's the only way I'll find out who really killed my uncle."

"How does the fight end?"

"Another Joe knocks me out. Judging by how the fight is going, the Order is making it very clear that I am to feel that other Joe saved my life by doing that."

"How do you feel about this scene?"

I pause, taken aback by the question.

"Why do you need to know that?"

"I'm trying to assess whether these false memories are affecting you."

"They're not."

"Good. Then you won't mind telling me how this first scene makes you feel."

"It makes me feel angry at the Order," I say, frowning. It's a useless answer since I'm always angry at the Order, but I'm hoping he'll take the hint and leave well enough alone.

He doesn't.

"Are we talking general anger at what they're trying to do to you, or is this particular scenario upsetting you further?"

I glare at him but he doesn't budge.

"Fine. You want me to say it, I will," I growl. "Even though it's not real, the thought of my brother trying so hard and almost succeeding to murder me is extremely disturbing. Happy?"

He nods.

"I think the Order has opted to present you with a dystopia. They must think you are more likely to believe unhappy memories than happy ones. I would tend to agree, so I must again recommend that you be on your guard."

"I am," I snarl.

"I'm glad to hear it. You've mentioned there were two more false recalls. Please describe them."

I sigh. The false memories are not fooling me, but they're not exactly pleasant, even with the knowledge that they are fake. On top of that, they didn't just pop in once and then disappeared again, they're constantly creeping back in my head when I least expect it. I spend most of my time trying to keep them away.

"The second one I had was set years ago, in the War. I'm in the jungle with Snake Eyes, and he can talk. He doesn't much, but he can. We're running towards a helicopter with some other guy. I get to it first, and Snake Eyes gets shot before making it there. I run back to him and get him to the helicopter; the shooters are still there, so I have to dodge some bullets, but I'm not hurt. It matches what he believes happened."

"What Snake Eyes believes? How do you know what he believes?"

"He gave me a letter the last time we met, saying I was the one who was brainwashed, and telling me the same stories the Order is trying to feed me. The letter mentioned my clan thought me a murderer, and also that I had saved his life in the war."

"Hmm. Well it does make perfect sense for them to match the lies they're telling the two of you. This way, Snake Eyes can help ensnare you."

He sounds like he's trying to be upset but can't quite manage it.

"You find this fascinating, don't you?" I ask him, barely containing the urge to strangle him. "What they're doing to me, what they did to him, you want to know about it much more than you want to undo it."

"You misunderstand. I want to know about it BECAUSE I want to undo it. You may not realize it, but you're a golden opportunity for studying how the Order accomplishes their flips. Especially now that they are using the same lies on you and Snake Eyes… If anything, I'm just a bit worried that they are leading us on."

Again, he's basically telling me that my full cooperation may make the difference between success and failure in saving my brother. I briefly wonder whether he's just manipulating me to get more information out of me but dismiss the thought. Even if he is, he's still my brother's best chance at finding his true self again, and if there is any possibility that I can give him helpful information, it'd be incredibly selfish of me not to, no matter how unpleasant sharing that information is.

"I'm sorry," I make myself say. "I… don't like actually calling up those false memories. I'd much rather they go away."

"It's quite alright. Your reaction to the Order's fictions is important information as well. How do you feel about the second scene you've described?"

"I have no idea," I answer honestly. "It's the least unpleasant of the three, but it makes the other two worse. If those things really had happened, I would have saved his life only for him to later believe I'm a murderer and try to execute me. It's also the one where my feelings for him - well, not mine, you know what I mean - are at their strongest, I guess because the fake me is afraid for his life… like I said, it just makes the other two scenes more disturbing. At the same time, it's all fiction, so why should I care?"

"You say 'your' feelings for him were at the strongest. Exactly what kind of feeling are we talking about? I must insist that you be honest."

"The memory makes him out to be a very dear friend," I answer honestly. "I've wondered too whether they'd try to make me believe we were in love, but they haven't. Not yet, anyway. I think they realize they'd have a hard time making me believe that."

"Why is that?"

I answer with a look.

"With your memory gone, are you sure you know what your sexual orientation is?" he asks.

I snort at him. How in the world wouldn't I know which gender I'm attracted to? I'm surrounded by hundreds of men and maybe a dozen females – if I was capable of MAKING myself be attracted to men, I would.

"I'm sure," I reply with a chuckle.

"All right. Let's move on to the last memory they are trying to implant."

I instantly lose my smile and my eyes drift down off his.

"It's longer," I state in the vain hope that will make him decide he doesn't want to hear it.

"You did say these scenes were not affecting you?"

I scowl at him.

"I've since admitted that I do find them disturbing," I remind him. "I meant to say they would not affect my performance."

"I understand that they must be unpleasant. Just the same, need I explain again that any little thing you tell me could turn out to be vitally important in un-flipping Snake Eyes?"

"No," I sigh. "This one starts with the fake me failing to catch the arrow that kills his uncle – the uncle the rest of my clan would believe he has killed. The fake me takes off after whoever shot the arrow but doesn't catch him or identify him – he takes off in a SHH."

"One of ours?" the Doctor asks.

I nod.

"The fake me gets close enough that he should have been able to identify him by sound, but he can't. In the memory, he blames it on his ears being injured. Once the killer is gone, he runs back to his uncle, but he's too late, his uncle is already dead, and he hears his other uncle tell Snake Eyes that he, the fake me, is the murderer and that he must be killed or brought to him. He, the uncle, sounds like he just intends to kill him, the fake me, right away if that's what happens. The fake me runs away. He feels extremely guilty about allowing the murder and he's determined to avenge his uncle."

"So in the memory, you're driven by revenge? That's very close to reality," he remarks.

I nod.

"The scene usually skips after that, and the me from the memory wakes up in a refuge to find a note from Snake Eyes, saying he found him asleep but didn't kill him to pay off his debt… from saving his life in the war, I think."

"In the memory, how do you react?"

"Badly." I refuse to elaborate. Thankfully, he doesn't insist.

"And how do you feel about it in reality?"

"I wish it didn't feel like a memory. All the emotions feel real too, so even though I know it's all a fabrication, it's…" I almost say disturbing again, but honesty prevails this time. "It's upsetting. I don't understand the Order's strategy. Why would I believe those lies? Why would I want these things to have happened for real?"

"It's human nature to second guess and it's your nature to expect the worst. I would hypothesize that the Order hopes you'll eventually think they wouldn't send you those horrible memories precisely because of the reasons you just gave; that this will lead you to believe they are indeed not sending them and that they are real; that the relatively less painful reality you know now is the fabrication, one Cobra would be responsible for."

"That's…" I don't finish. I'm terrified, but I'm not about to admit it.

"Is that all you can tell me about these false memories?"

"Yes."

"Very well. We'll get rid of them, now."

My eyes widen.

"You… you can make them go away? I thought… the Commander said he could not prevent them!"

"We can't prevent the Order from sending them, but we can get rid of them if they become too upsetting. It's going to be painful, I'm afraid, but as much as you try to deny it even to yourself, they are affecting you emotionally. We need to get rid of them before they get an even greater grip on you."

I nod eagerly. I don't care how painful it's going to be if it means never living through those lies again.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

SHH: Silent Helicopter and Hovercraft. It was the name of the stolen prototype and the Commander decided to keep it, which is why it's not snake related. It has nothing to do with my acronym making abilities. :P

Kind of heavy on dialogue and light on action, I know. Sorry about that, but I trust this explains how some memories resurfacing won't really be a problem for Cobra. Maybe you even picked up some additional insight on Storm Shadow, too…

Next time: Storm Shadow has to make a very difficult decision.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

I wake up in my own bed with no distinct memory of the procedure, and no recollection of the actual false memories Mindbender removed. All I remember is thinking he'd been right about the procedure being painful, and that I had some kind of false memories, sent by the Order, that were invasive and disturbing. What they actually were, I have no idea anymore – something I'm very grateful for.

The first thought that strikes me upon waking up is that I need to find a way to bring my brother back to his senses without having to put him through this kind of treatment. The second is that I can't wait to get back at the Order, and since I also have a duty to avenge my family, this translates into my being impatient for another chance to fight GI Joe.

Thankfully, the Commander obliges very quickly for once. I find out at breakfast that we are attacking the Pit on that very day.

* * *

The return to the fortress is less than triumphant. The Joes have had some losses, but we've lost at least twice as many men as they did and we did not find the information the Commander wanted. I'm particularly frustrated because I had barely gotten started on the Joes when Snake Eyes engaged me, and I spent most of the rest of the fight blocking his attacks while trying to reason with him.

I escaped without serious injury, but I've made no progress on bringing my brother around, I didn't even come close to capturing him, and because he intercepted me almost as soon as we got to the Pit, I've only managed to kill one of the Joes.

* * *

The third year anniversary of my waking up with no memories but with my freedom finds me locked in my room, thinking on how to proceed from here.

Three years, and I have basically accomplished nothing at all. Every time we fight GI Joe, Snake Eyes is there and he effectively neutralizes me until we retreat. Sometimes, when I'm lucky, I manage one or two kills before he actually reaches me, and that's it. Each time, I try everything to convince him the memories he thinks he has are false, and as far as I can tell, I fail completely.

The Commander doesn't seem to mind, which seems to indicate Destro was right about his mainly being interested in my preventing Snake Eyes from killing him or dozens of his troops.

I, on the other hand, definitely do mind. The Joes can hire new soldiers quicker than I can kill them, so at this rate, I'll never fulfill my oath to see them all dead. The other promise I've made myself, to save my brother, is going just as badly. And to top it off, the Order has continued to implant fabricated memories into my head and I have to get them removed by Mindbender on a regular basis. It feels like it will never end, like the Order will just keep trying until they wear me or Mindbender down.

This can't continue. I can't just let the Order continue to try and eventually succeed in brainwashing me, but I have only one way of stopping that – since I'll never be able to eliminate the Order completely, I have to die. I don't mind the idea all that much, but I have my conditions.

I must avenge my clan. My original plan to kill everyone in GI Joe and every one in charge of them within the Order still stands. I will not allow death to claim me before my family has received justice.

I also want to free my brother, and this objective is tied to the first one. As long as Snake Eyes opposes me, I can't have my revenge. The question I have to face now is how to go about setting him free. I've tried everything to convince him he was being misled; I ran out of ideas on how to do so over a year ago, and I've only been repeating myself since. Nothing I've said or done has had any effect at all.

To think that I was so optimistic after the first few times I met him… he was listening, he accepted a truce, and he even did something that he thought was saving my life. With hindsight, considering his complete lack of progress since and his repeated attempts at trying to convince ME that I'm brainwashed by Cobra, the behaviour was simply arranged by the Order precisely to lead me to believe I could save him and to make me lower my guard around him.

Since I can't bring him back by talking to him, the only way I have left to save him is to capture him and let Mindbender have a go at him. I've been trying to do just that, but no matter how much I train to increase my strength and speed, he stays better than me. Of all the times I've fought him, I haven't managed to get the upper hand once. His technique is flawless and he's always pulling moves I've never seen before, and although I think I may be a bit stronger than he is, he remains faster than me.

To be honest, even if I did manage to defeat him, I'm pretty sure bringing him to Mindbender would accomplish nothing. I have some remnants of memories left and I have no false ones, yet Mindbender can't bring back the rest of my memories. It's painfully obvious that although he'd be willing to try, he would not be able to restore Snake Eyes. My brother has also had his false memories for years, and Mindbender keeps telling me not to delay seeing him when I get some because the older they are, the harder they are to remove. I've long since accepted the obvious conclusion that Snake Eyes' false memories cannot be erased; the only way to get him back would be for him to regain his true memory and sort out himself what is true and what is false – and I know from personal experience that Mindbender cannot rebuild memories the Order has erased.

I spend the next hours going back and forth between the thoughts that I can't talk him back to himself or bring him to Mindbender and that Mindbender wouldn't be able to help him anyway; looking for hints that I might have missed that would indicate our conversations are having a little bit of effect; giving myself headaches trying to remember things from my own past in an effort to make myself believe Mindbender's treatments are at least working a little bit on me. I find no hint, I remember nothing, and by the time I notice night time has arrived, I can no longer deny the truth: Snake Eyes only has one way out – the same one as me.

If I want him to be free, I have to kill him. As soon as I allow the thought to form, I go right back to desperately looking for something, anything, that could make me believe again that I don't have to take the life of the very last family member I have.

Somewhere around dawn, my thoughts drift by themselves to whether or not I even CAN kill him. I've never even gotten close to winning a fight against him, but I've never actually tried to hurt him. If I did, I'd be bound to get a lucky hit eventually or an actual opening, and I wouldn't need to temper my hits, unlike each time I've tried to merely capture him.

I start running fight scenarios in my mind. As soon as I hit one where I'd win and he'd die as a result, I feel the blood draining from my head and I fall to a sitting position, breathing hard.

I try again to go back through all our encounters in the past three years, digging for some small reason to believe I can still save him. I find none.

I concentrate again on my own memories, calling back full sessions with Mindbender and desperately trying to convince myself they've triggered some memories, no matter how small or insignificant – nothing. All the sessions have ever accomplished is to try my patience and my will to remember.

I clench my teeth and pound the floor, furious at the Order for what they've done, at my brother for not being able to fight it off, at Cobra for not being able to undo it, and at myself for being so resistant to doing what needs to be done.

There is no way around it: I can't avenge my clan as long as Snake Eyes stands in my way, and I can't save him – as long as he lives, he will be the Order's puppet. For both these reasons, he must die. I need him out of the way to be able to kill the rest of GI Joe and ending his life is the only way to give him back his freedom. As a spirit, he'll be back to his true self, I'm sure of it. What's the point of prolonging his life when he's only a prisoner in his own body and mind?

I spend the next while repeating those arguments to myself. Every now and then, I go through a fight in my head, where I win and kill him, to test whether I'll actually be able to go through with it. Each time I do that, my mind revolts so strongly as to make me feel physically ill and I go back to trying to reason with myself and rid myself of any doubt, hesitation and regrets.

I'm not sure how much time I spend doing this before I'm interrupted by Destro banging on the door. I debate ignoring it, but I was about to run through a killing scenario again and I prove to myself that I'm still not ready to do the actual deed by purposely answering the door just to put off imagining myself murdering my last brother again.

Destro looks sulkier than ever when I open the door. "The Commander is worried about you. He says you haven't been seen since Tuesday."

I stare blankly at him for a second, the meaning of his words taking a moment to cut through my own thoughts. Further ruining any attempt at dignity, my stomach growls.

"I'm trying to work something out," I say. "What day is it now?"

"It's Thursday morning," he says, obviously bored. "He figures you're meditating or some such. He wants to know what about and couldn't find anyone else willing to bother you. He's expecting you in his office now."

I sigh. I could really do without this kind of interruption, and I had not intended to reveal my intentions to the Commander; I'm afraid he'll only complicate things by trying to stop me or talk me out of it. The last thing I need right now is someone providing me with an excuse to ignore reason.

"I don't want him whining at me if you don't show up," Destro adds. "If you're not going, can you at least tell me now so that I can send someone else to let him know your answer and make myself unavailable to his rantings?"

I wave the possibility off. The Commander would just come marching in here himself, and instead of being interrupted once, I would be twice.

"I'm going."

He nods and stalks off.

* * *

The Commander is waiting for me in his office, pacing.

"Why did you lock yourself in your room?" he asks the second I'm in. He sounds like doing this was the most horrible thing I could possibly have done.

"You didn't request my presence," I remark. "I just need some time by myself. I had no idea this would cause you concern, given that I took the time to see Mindbender the day before."

"Sit down."

He takes a chair himself and I sit down too.

"So you need time. Why?"

"Well…" I stammer. I really don't want to discuss this with him. I don't want him to try and talk me out of it, and although I know it's silly, I want him to agree with me even less.

"You can't keep this for yourself, Storm Shadow. You know your mind is in constant danger. I need to know what's going on inside it that prompted you to isolate yourself without food or, by the looks of it, sleep for over 48 hours."

I sigh.

"I'm trying to come to a firm decision on what to do about Snake Eyes," I finally admit.

"After three years, I think it's clear that the best you can do is to neutralize him when we fight GI Joe. Or have you made progress towards bringing him to our side that I'm not aware of?"

I shake my head.

"He neutralizes me just as much as I neutralize him and no, I haven't."

"I've mentioned before that it may be best to put him out of his misery."

I clench my teeth and lower my eyes. "I've reached the same conclusion."

He nods. "I realize it's a painful decision to come to. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm not ready yet. I need more time."

He nods again. "Very well, but I order you to sleep and eat. I'll send Mindbender to check on you every now and then. Do NOT deny him entry or refuse to talk to him."

I resist rolling my eyes in annoyance and give a curt bow instead before getting up and leaving.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Remember a whole bunch of chapters back, I skipped 8 years because not much happened of interest during those eight years and I didn't want to put you to sleep? The three years skip here is for similar reasons, except I was picturing more screams directed at Tommy and blunt objects flying towards computer screens and less falling asleep as such.

Yep, he's still totally oblivious 3 years later. It shouldn't be a surprise: the Commander and Mindbender are both completely insane, but they are also both geniuses (this is inspired by the comics, not the cartoon) and the Commander in particular is very determined to make sure Storm Shadow stays under his control. So, will Tommy ever break free? Will he kill Snake Eyes? You don't really expect me to tell, do you?

Next time: someone tries to kill Cobra Commander, and Storm Shadow… helps that person escape?

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"Three years, Brother."

He stops for a second. I'm sure he knows what I'm talking about; even though he doesn't remember everyone from our clan being killed or even believes it's happened, he knows when I joined Cobra and when I first started trying to make him remember the truth.

I can't even look him in the eyes when I start talking again. I stare at my sword instead.

"I can't stand to see you like this anymore."

His grip on his sword tightens but he still doesn't move.

"You're the only person in the whole world that I recognize at all. Don't you understand how close we must have been? Can't you see this isn't right? We can't be natural enemies!"

Around us, the battle is still raging. He just stands there, waiting to see what I'm going to do.

"The Order is using that fact in their efforts to confuse me: each time they implant a false memory, it's while I'm fighting you or shortly after, typically when I'm thinking about our fights. They're able to use you as a facilitator."

His heart accelerates slightly and he sheaths his sword to sign to me that the memories are not false and that he's been trying to trigger them, although he didn't know until now that it was working.

"STOP IT," I snarl. "Stop. Whatever you think you're doing, it's not working! It can't. What you think are memories are LIES! This can't go on… as long as you're in my way, I'll never be able to bring GI Joe to justice, and after three years, it's time I admit I won't be able to bring you back by talking to you."

His hands twitch as he resists the urge to grip his sword again. He signs to ask what happens now.

I sigh. I've been trying to work up the courage to do this for days, and I can barely even bring myself to saying it out loud.

"I've tried everything to bring you back; nothing is working. I thought I was making progress at first, but I can see now that what I thought were glimmers of hope for your true self to surface again were simply arranged by the Order to fool me."

He's heard enough. He takes his sword back out and attacks. I block and keep talking.

"It's time for me to face facts. My brother is dead; he doesn't need saving anymore, he needs avenging. You… you're just a shell; a living puppet beyond redemption."

My voice breaks even as I say it. He's still attacking me, and his attacks are getting more ferocious. I clench my teeth and for the first time - as far as I know, anyway - I respond to his attacks in kind. This is such a novelty for him that although his technique is better than mine, I draw blood almost right away, even though it's only a flesh wound. This is when the reality of what I'm doing fully hits me. I suddenly visualize cutting his head, in full details, and all the resolve I've built up evaporates.

The fact that this is the only sensible thing to do ceases to matter. Telling myself he's not my brother anymore stops making any kind of sense. After spending several days and nights arguing with myself and then training my mind to accept what has to be done, a drop of blood drawn from his side by my sword and I'm back to square one.

I can't kill him. I can't even hurt him; he's my brother, the last family I have! By all evidence, he's the most important person in my life; I can't give up on him.

I sink to my knees and his blade skims my shoulder. I barely notice. My own sword drops from my fingers and I sag to a full crouch.

"I can't do it," I hear myself say.

I don't really know who I'm talking to; it hardly seems useful to talk to Snake Eyes anymore. I really can't do anything for him, and because of that, I can't do anything for the rest of our family. I've failed.

He kneels in front of me and signs something. I can't focus my eyes enough to have any idea what he signed: I shake my head. This little truce feels completely unreal; people around us are still fighting and his radio is screaming at him to take me prisoner.

He sighs and squeezes my shoulders briefly. My eyes widen and I look up at him, but he's already up and he has his sword back out.

He came back. For a few seconds, he was back. He's gone again, but he came back!

I block his sword with mine and our fight starts again. As usual, we keep each other busy while Cobra tries to defeat GI Joe.

Back to square one, but at least I know we're moving. The last three years mean nothing anymore, and the despair I felt minutes ago seems ridiculous in hindsight.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I gave up on you. I won't do that again, I swear it."

The fight plays out and ends like most others – we sustain losses and accomplish little – but for once, I couldn't care less. I don't remember ever being so happy. Even the thought that of course I wouldn't makes me chuckle.

* * *

My good mood lasts for several days, despite the fact the Commander is not even planning our next move, concentrating instead on a little swear-in ceremony for our youth troops.

My patience does start to wear thin as the 'big day' approaches. I could understand the Commander being a bit giddy – pure hearted future generations fighting the good fight and all that – but the Baroness is practically dancing in anticipation and the Commander is gleefully ignoring my concerns over that fact, solely because Destro and he have been getting along well as of late. All I've been able to talk the Commander into is to let me be by his side at the ceremony.

All in all, I'm glad when we finally find ourselves looking at the dozens of young teens swearing loyalty to Cobra, simply for the sake of getting it done with and because I'm expecting to finally find out what the Baroness is up to.

The ceremony proceeds with nothing of interest happening for a while – three or four kids at a time are introduced to the Commander and swear loyalty, the Commander thanks them and dismisses them, and the next group comes over. If not for a sense of impending danger that is not helped at all by the Baroness's conspicuous absence, I'd be bored to tears.

And then, a trigger gets pulled and a bullet shoots out from inside the bouquet of flowers held by one of the kids. I dive to get the Commander out of the way while the kid shouts something about avenging his parents.

I throw a knife towards the gun before he fires again, and knock both the weapon and the flowers out of his hand. Guards grab him, and next thing I know, the Commander has scrambled up and is pointing his own gun at the kid. I look around for the Baroness, but she's still nowhere to be seen. I listen out for her, but there's too much chatter and noise, I can't hear anyone's vital signs except for the small group around the Commander and myself.

"Speak, boy," the Commander demands. "Who sent you? You didn't get here by yourself. Who's your accomplice? The Baroness?"

Next to him, Destro winces.

"I'll never betray my allies!" the boy shouts defiantly. "You can kill me if you like, you're not getting anything out of me!"

It's a shame he's bent on killing the Commander: such character and loyalty, he would have made an excellent recruit for us.

The Commander rolls his eyes.

"Fine with me," he says.

Before he can fire, Destro forces his gun up. "I can't let you do that Commander."

I glance at arms dealer, curious; he sounds horrified. He's not being threatening at all, so I don't feel the need to interfere.

The Commander glares at him. The kid struggles and to make sure he doesn't actually escape, I take out my sword and position the point of it on his throat with a meaningful look. He snarls at me but stops moving.

"Look at him, Commander. The resemblance is obvious, and he's the right age. Besides," Destro adds after a quick glance at me, "it'd be just like the Order to do this, for the sheer cruelty of it: have the estranged son murder his own father without knowing it."

My eyes widen and I glance at the Commander, who's staring at the kid with wide eyes.

"Billy?" he asks.

The kid's eyes widen too.

"Dad?"

The Commander's pulse speeds up for the space of a few beats before going back to normal.

"Put him in the dungeon," he hisses. "If he doesn't talk, he'll be executed tomorrow. Being my son only makes his treason worse."

I show no reaction when I sheathe my sword and the guards take the boy away. The Commander needs to maintain perfect discipline, so it's no good disputing his orders in front of everyone else - he'd have to blow me off no matter what I said.

His need to maintain that discipline and to keep his authority undisputed is the same reason he had to do what he did: he can't forgive a would-be murderer, no matter who he is. Given how much it hurt to decide to kill my brother – however short-lived that resolution was - I can imagine how difficult it must have been for the Commander to give the order to execute his own son.

I can't let the execution happen. The kid doesn't deserve it, for one thing: he was manipulated, and yet he still refused to betray his supposed allies. This is not the mark of a traitor, quite the opposite: this child is already a better man than most of our troops. Secondly, I know the Commander can't actually want to go through with this. If I don't do something, he'll have to and he will, but it'll be like tearing his own heart out of his chest.

I need to break Billy out, and I need to figure out a way to give the Commander an excuse to pardon him. I'll probably need to hide the kid away for a while, which means I'll have to disappear with him and there's a good chance some will think I've finally been flipped by the Order. Hopefully, the Commander will know better and guess what it is I'm really up to, but since I can't bank on it, I may as well make sure that both Billy and I do something that earns us forgiveness and the Commander's trust back. It shouldn't be too hard: we'll just have to play heroes at the first occasion.

* * *

I make my move right after dinner, as the sun starts nearing the horizon – the long shadows will help both the kid and I to hide but the troops won't be wearing their night vision goggles yet.

I crawl along the ceiling through the cell block, right over the head of a few guards who remain oblivious to my presence. Most of the cells are empty, and therefore, security is pretty lax: what few guards are around are not paying much attention.

Billy, on the other hand, is guarded by five men. I drop in the middle of them and knock them out before they can so much as cry out. Billy looks at me dispassionately.

"You're here to kill me, aren't you? I could tell you weren't happy the Commander wouldn't let you do it right away. What are you supposed to be, anyway? Some kind of ninja?"

I suppose I can excuse the faulty logic: he did just get sentenced to death after being tricked into trying to murder his own father and subsequently being abandoned by his accomplices.

"If I was so desperate to kill you before tomorrow as to get myself in trouble for it, I would have done it at the ceremony. And yes, I'm a ninja."

I take out my sword and slice the chains holding him to the wall. He blinks at me and doesn't move.

I beckon him to follow.

"I'm breaking you out. Come on, we need to get moving."

"Hold it."

I turn to Destro, smirking. I was wondering when he'd come out of the shadows and 'reveal' himself. I'm pretty sure he won't object to Billy not being executed since he's already saved his life.

My smirk vanishes when I notice his gun, pointed straight at me: he thinks I'm betraying them.

"Storm Shadow. Leave the boy and get yourself to Mindbender. You're just confused."

He's remarkably calm, either because he's billing me as not too far gone yet from the fact I didn't kill the guards or because he thinks his gun makes him safe.

"I'm not confused," I say. "The boy is the Commander's son, I…"

Destro frowns.

"Wonderful: you're making trouble even without the memories. The Commander has made his decision with the full knowledge of the boy's identity, ninja. You ought to respect it."

I really don't have time for a philosophical argument with Destro, but as long as he's talking, he's not fully concentrated on shooting us, something I'd be foolish not to exploit.

"What are YOU doing here, anyway?" I ask.

"I was hoping Billy's accomplices would show… oh no you don't! Even you can't dodge bullets from this close!"

I've grabbed Billy's arms and I'm running straight at Destro. He stops talking and shoots, but I've already pushed his gun up and I shove him in the cell before taking off with Billy and the gun. I dump the gun before jumping for the ceiling with the boy, who is thankfully light and finally mentally alert enough to help himself a bit.

"ALERT! STORM SHADOW HAS BETRAYED US AND FREED BILLY!" Destro screams behind us.

I scowl: he's going to have the whole base, and possibly even the Commander, believing the Order got to me.

I steer Billy between ceilings and floors until we get to one of the emergency exits and end up in the sewers. He wrinkles his nose and claps the hand I'm not holding to his mouth, but to his credit, he doesn't say a word and just keeps running. I hear a small group somewhere behind us and accelerate. He floats behind me more than he runs, but he manages to keep his balance and to not slow me down too much. I exit the sewers at the first opportunity and we lose our pursuers in the streets of Springfield before heading out of town.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Hmm… a confused teenager and a delusional ninja on the run… You know, this could totally be the premise for a sitcom. I can't think of a title, though, and even though it's for a sitcom that will never exist (even here), it's driving me crazy that I don't know what to call it. Any ideas? 

Next time: Tommy finally gets a student and he's pretty gleeful for a short while.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

We have to spend the night outside because I don't want to take a chance on renting a room – all the hotels around town are owned by Cobra and between the possibility that he'll believe Destro about me and the fact he can't be seen letting Billy and I get away, I have to assume the Commander will be trying to have us captured.

We walk in the woods and fields bordering the highway into New York until I'm satisfied we're far enough from Springfield to let the kid sleep. He doesn't even protest or notice that I'm only taking out one sleeping bag; he falls asleep the second he's lying down.

I sit next to him and ponder my next move again. I don't want to go too far away: with the Joes being based in New York and Springfield being right next door, it wouldn't make sense for me to go anywhere else. Despite Destro's certainty that I've finally lost my mind, I have no intention of letting the Joes topple Cobra – I will stay close so I can interfere if needed and confront the Joes if the opportunity arises.

There is an abandoned water tower I know of, that I used a few times when I was out of the base and wanted to be alone for a couple of hours. Nobody in Cobra or GI Joe knows about it, although Snake Eyes might be able to track me there if he really tries: we've had encounters in the neighbourhood a few times.

As for the boy… the best way to ensure he gets back into his father's good graces is to make him useful, so I'll teach him. I smirk at myself – making him useful is a convenient excuse, but the fact is that I'm downright excited at the thought of having a student. Zartan may have been right when he told me I used to be a teacher after all. It would be a first for him to be right about anything connected to me, but stranger things have happened.

* * *

Billy wakes up by himself shortly after the sun rises. He looks at me and at our surroundings blearily, scratches his head, sighs and locks eyes with me again.

"What now?" he says. "Why'd you break me out? What good am I to you? You want to make me talk, don't you? You want me to tell you who set me up to kill the Commander. You figure I will because you saved me. Forget it. For all I know, the Commander TOLD you to break me out."

"I don't need you to tell me who set you up: the Baroness could barely contain herself the past few days. The only strange part is that Destro was obviously not in on it. The Commander was trying to give you a way out – he was offering you mercy in exchange for a piece of information he already had."

The blood drains from his face when I mention the Baroness, but he rolls his eyes at the idea of the Commander showing mercy.

"You believe Cobra is a terrorist organization bent on world domination and the Commander is evil incarnate, don't you?"

He blinks at me, temporarily rendered speechless by the question. I know better than to think I can convince him of the truth before I actually earn his trust, so I wave the matter off and move on to the next topic.

"It doesn't matter for now. I broke you out to save you and to spare the Commander from having to execute his own son." He opens his mouth to protest but I cut him off. "I know you don't think it would have bothered him. I do. Let's leave it at that for now, shall we? We're going to hide for a while, and I will train you."

"Train me? Why?"

I hesitate a moment. I can't very well admit that I want him to become good enough to be able to do something grandiose that will give the Commander an excuse to forgive him while he still believes Cobra to be an evil organization: he'd just refuse to train.

"Because I think you have potential and if we're going to be hiding together, we may as well be doing something constructive."

He thinks for a while, looking around at the empty land surrounding us and glancing at me and at my backpack. It's rather transparent that he's trying to assess whether he's better off with or without me.

"You… won't hand me back to Cobra, will you?"

"I won't allow you to be executed."

"Why? What's in it for you? I mean… no offence, but you're a ninja and you work for Cobra… I'm not picturing you as the selfless hero type."

I snort.

"I'm not. Cobra is helping me avenge my family, who were slaughtered by GI Joe. I'm helping you because…"

I stop, suddenly realizing that he has a point: helping him is not advancing my objectives at all. At the same time, I don't regret the decision - I can't sit back and let the Commander have to kill his own son: I'm not that cruel, nor that selfish.

"I know how much it hurts to lose one's family," I finish.

"GI Joe? But... they're that army unit that fights Cobra, aren't they?"

I nod.

"It's really more the other way around, but yes. The Order sent them to capture me and they murdered the rest of my family. Cobra rescued me afterward, but not before the Order was able to wipe most of my memories clear. I don't even remember the people I've lost."

He swallows.

"I… I'm sorry," he says. "That'd… I mean, that's horrible. The Order… is that like the global government? The thing the big world leaders are all in, that's behind all the bad stuff in the world? Like, err, famine and poverty and AIDS?"

I nod and can't hold back a sigh of relief. I expected him to scoff at the idea, but he actually knows of the Order; maybe it won't be so hard to convince him of the truth about Cobra after all.

I rummage into my bag for our breakfast: an apple and a cereal bar each, and a couple of bottles of milk wrapped in icepacks.

"Eat up. We still need to walk to New York; you'll need some energy."

His jaw drops, but he starts eating without another word, until he gets to the milk.

"Is that Soy Milk?" he asks. He distinctly sounds as though he's just trying to break the silence. The inquiry is made all the more suspicious by the fact the bottles are clearly labelled 'Milk' and are adorned with pictures of cows. Purely for the sake of not making him more uncomfortable than he already is, I opt to act as though the question is legitimate.

"No, just plain old cow milk," I reply. "Why? Are you lactose intolerant?"

"No. I just thought you might be. You're Japanese, right?"

I smirk and fish out my medication. "Mostly, but the cafeteria can't be bothered to cater to me. It's much easier for Cobra to simply provide me with this. Thankfully, they were able to figure out I needed it before I got sick."

Once I'm done with breakfast, I start taking off my uniform to change into more anonymous clothes. In hindsight, I shouldn't have worn it in the first place, but even now, I can't bring myself to get rid of it and I stuff it into my backpack instead, also expanding said backpack to accommodate my weapons.

The second I start undressing, Billy jumps to his feet and backs off a few steps. I sigh and finish dressing and packing before I turn to him, scowling. He's still standing, but he's now looking more embarrassed than scared. I cross my arms and glare at him.

"I don't know what's more insulting: the idea that I'd assault my own student, that I'd assault a child, that I'd assault anybody at all, or that I'd be stupid enough to start by undressing, slowly, to do so."

"S…Sorry. I didn't run! I was just… sorry," he mumbles, turning beet red.

Just because I heard that doesn't make it any more of a proper apology, and beyond being insulting, his lack of trust could quickly become a problem in our position. I only hesitate a moment before deciding to demand more from him.

"Speak up, and to remind you that you have nothing to fear from me, you will address me as Sensei."

He swallows, and to his credit, looks me straight in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sensei," he says at normal volume.

I uncross my arms and stop scowling.

"Apology accepted. Do you know what the term Sensei means?"

He smirks.

"Everyone knows that. It means 'teacher'."

I snort and start walking, motioning him to do the same. He follows dutifully.

"Doesn't it?" he asks.

"For a ninja, it's a stronger word than that. By taking you on as my apprentice, I have effectively vowed to do my best to teach you all I can and to protect you with my life. Granted, it's usually assumed that won't be necessary, but in time of war, it becomes significant. No sensei would let rival ninjas kill their students. If you called me your teacher, you would make no distinction between me and a school teacher with hundreds of students, who sees you a few hours a week and barely knows your name."

He stops walking. I turn around and look at him questioningly.

"That's kind of intense, considering we've just met," he remarks.

"We hardly have the luxury to spend months getting acquainted, and besides, the relationship can always be terminated if a student turns out to be unworthy."

"Oh, I get it. So that vow you were just talking about is only valid until I piss you off."

I try to scowl, but I can't quite manage it: it's all I can do not to start laughing at how silly he makes it sound.

"I'd have to be VERY pissed," I say. "Typically, I'd only give up on you if you betrayed me or the clan. Come on, we can walk and talk at the same time. It's already going to take us most of the day to get where we're going. Ask as many questions as you want – you'll spend more energy that way and you'll learn more, too."

* * *

He certainly takes the instruction to ask a lot of questions to heart. By the time we climb in the empty water tower, he knows as much about me as I do – not that that's saying much – and he's starting to get a grasp of some basic practical ninja knowledge.

I drop my backpack to dig through it again, until I find the wad of money I took. I stuff a few thousand dollars worth in my pockets, bury the rest back in the backpack, and turn to Billy, who's sat down and taken his shoes off.

"We need to go shopping. How are your legs?"

"What legs?" he complains. "I can't believe we walked all the way here…"

I smile.

"You did well; we made good time. Now put your shoes back on, get up and take this backpack."

The face he makes is priceless.

_I only have time to get my gear before I hear my brother slouching in my direction. The Hard Master really must have been tough on him._

_I turn towards him and motion him forward, more to let him know I don't mind his presence than anything else: he was already coming this way anyway._

_"Have you ever done endurance training with your uncle for a whole day?" he asks, sitting down heavily with his back against the wall where the paper targets are hung._

_"He was never my main teacher," I reply. "I think the worst I've been through was the early Ear That Sees training."_

"Storm… err, Sensei?" I hear Billy ask.

I shake my head and focus my eyes back on him, clenching my teeth. I was really hoping to be free of implanted memories for more than a single day.

"I'm sorry. Just one of those false memories I've told you about. Come on, get moving. I did say 'now', not 'at your earliest convenience'."

"But…"

"We need to build up your endurance. You will NOT like the process, but it will be worth it in the end. For goodness sake, did you think this was going to be easy? Move!"

He tries to scowl but he looks more scared than anything else, and he hurriedly puts his shoes back on. He grabs the backpack - without my reminding him - and we head off.

"Sensei? Can I still ask questions?" he asks once we're at ground level.

Someone turns around and gives us an odd look. It figures… American students tend to address their teachers by their first name, so a white boy like Billy calling someone 'Sensei' will draw attention, if only as a mild curiosity, and I want zero attention drawn to us.

"In public, call me Tommy," I instruct, "and yes, you can ask as many questions as you want. Just try to keep them normal sounding when we're out."

"You don't mind people calling you that?" he asks. "I mean, I'm already getting tired of being called Billy. It sounds like a kid's name, you know?"

I shrug.

"Tommy feels more right. Thomas would be harder to pronounce in Japanese, maybe that's why I'm more used to Tommy."

I don't offer to call him William. As far as I'm concerned, he's just being a teenager. If he wants me to stop calling him Billy desperately enough, he'll just have to actually formally request it.

"So what was it you er… remembered back there?" he asks.

"Someone else looking tired after working out," I answer.

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"It wasn't."

He lapses into silence and doesn't bring the subject up again.

We head for a 24 hours discount department store we passed on the way here, and return to the tower with camping equipment rated safe for indoor use, a few changes of clothes and enough food for a few days. I get a few looks from passers-by due to the load I'm carrying, but I easily deflect them by pretending to be paying attention to the parked cars along the street, giving them the impression I'm heading for mine.

Billy has enough sense to deposit the backpack on the floor once we're back in the tower – as opposed to dropping it - but shows no such gentleness to himself. He crashes against the wall, calling back the same images he did earlier. I shake the implanted memory off, dimly wondering what the Order is trying to accomplish with it.

"That stuff was pretty expensive," my new apprentice remarks while I'm cooking. "How much money do you have?"

"Plenty. I took $50,000 and if needed, I can sell some of my weapons. I doubt it'll be necessary."

I wonder if he's going to try to steal the money and run off but dismiss the thought – if he does that, I was wrong about him and he doesn't deserve my help. May the money do him some good until Cobra catches up to him or he ends up a random victim of the Order.

"Fifty thousands? What are we doing here then? Can't we go to a hotel?"

"No. People who live in hotels are seen regularly by the staff and the other guests, so even if we were lucky enough to stumble upon a hotel that doesn't have ties to either Cobra or the Order, we'd be too easy to find for either. Cobra IS looking for us, Billy, you can be sure of that. And as soon as the Order finds out I'm out of the fortress, with the son of the Commander no less, they will be actively looking for us too. We're safer here. I've run into Snake Eyes a few times in the area, but even he would be hard pressed to guess I'm hiding in this particular spot."

I glance at him and notice he's eyeing the food in the camping wok rather suspiciously.

"They're called vegetables," I tease. "Get used to them. I'm going to enjoy eating real food after three years of cafeteria."

"I don't mind vegetables," he says. "But what's with the tofu? You bought meat, too, so you can't be a vegetarian."

"I just felt like it. I haven't had it in… well, I don't remember ever having it, but I still missed it, so I must have. Count yourself lucky I'm going to ease you into seaweed."

He chuckles, and I choose to let him think I'm kidding for now. Considering his age, he's probably going to have a hard time adjusting to proper food as it is. He actually worked up the courage to try to talk me into buying soda at the supermarket, insisting the caffeine would help him stay alert – as if I'd WANT him to have chemical aids while training, especially the kind that backfires with a crash when it wears off.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

You know what's silly? The one point I hesitated the most on in this chapter was whether Storm Shadow was lactose intolerant. It is very common in Japan, but I wrote him as part American, so I could have gone either way (as a matter of fact, in my first draft, he's not). I finally settled on going with it because it means one more annoyance for him with Cobra: he has to take medication because they can't be bothered to get him soy milk or to adapt his menu in any way.

On food: I can't imagine ninjas NOT eating very healthy. They dedicate their lives to making their bodies as efficient as possible and they believe in absolute discipline. Junk food and sweets just don't fit that picture. Storm Shadow tends towards perfectionism and extreme behaviours, so you can guess he'd be no exception, rather the opposite. That being said, don't expect it to come up much – it's just not very relevant to the plot. I use it more in the bonuses, since they're not essential by nature and it's a fun quirk to give Tommy.

Also, I happen to find it very funny in other stories when ninjas fight over sweets or other treats, and I wouldn't want to discourage that by insisting too much on my own take on ninja diets. :D

Next time: Billy really starts his training and reveals something unpleasant. Storm Shadow continues to struggle with his own head.

Thanks for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

He gets through the first part of the kata fairly well, but just as he did the last three times he's tried it, he falls upon attempting a spinning kick balanced on his hand – the very same kick he was performing just fine last week. I curse inwardly at myself – you'd think knowing to get your students to keep practicing acquired skills even as you move on to the next one would be part of one's general knowledge and that, therefore, I wouldn't have forgotten it.

I help him up and force a smile in answer to his scowl.

"Try again," I instruct. "Just the kick. You and I both know you can do it."

He bows, takes a few steps back, and tries the spinning kick. He doesn't get his weight balanced quite right and so, falls again. He gets up and avoids my eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I don't understand. I could do it last week!"

"There is no need to apologize; I should have kept you practicing it at least a bit every day. Try again, but this time, concentrate on your balance rather than on your kick."

"Yes Sensei."

He tries again, and although the kick itself is off target and weak, he doesn't fall.

"Good. Do it a few more times, always concentrating on your balance, until you're a bit more comfortable."

"I'm not a very good student, am I? We just went back one week."

"You're a perfectly fine student, and we did not go back a week: we're merely reviewing. You ARE a bit slow to follow instructions, however."

He takes the hint and repeats the move. After two more times, he starts getting impatient and tries for a better kick. He falls again.

"You need to be more patient. You weren't comfortable with your balance yet."

"I've been here for three weeks, and now I can't do what I was doing last week!" he cries out. "You can't tell me YOU don't mind!"

_"Just the same, he's gone. We need to choose a new teacher for Tommy," the Hard Master says._

_I try my best to keep my heart from hammering in fear the Hard Master will hear it and find me eavesdropping, but it's becoming harder. I've just found out that they all think the Seeing Master merely faked his death and now, I'm about to find out who my next sensei is going to be and I'll even get to hear why. My bet is on the Hard Master, since he's the best after the Seeing Master at sensory techniques and since he can also use the Ear That Sees._

_"I was assuming you were going to take him, Brother," my father says. "Why wouldn't you?"_

_"For the sake of my other students," the Hard Master replies. "It's happened over and over again in this clan's history, and the Seeing Master is but the latest example: students like Tommy ruin their teachers."_

_Students like me? What's THAT supposed to mean? And I still need SOMEONE to teach me, don't I?_

_"So you're going to rotate Tomisaburo?" my father says. "Not assign him an actual sensei, just toss him around between everybody?"_

_"Yes," The Hard Master says, ignoring the obvious objection. "It has the added advantage that his training will be very well rounded."_

I groan and grip my head in my hands, shaking it, before I can help myself. Another one, and AGAIN, I can't even figure out why the Order sent it. I never remember the implants once Mindbender removes them, but I do remember that I'm glad when he does because beyond being the way the Order is trying to brainwash me, the fake memories are usually disturbing. Yet, the four - five now - I've gotten since breaking Billy out are not remotely painful. If not for the fact I know where they come from and what the Order ultimately wants to do, they wouldn't bother me at all.

"Another vision?" Billy asks.

"Yes," I sigh. "Just as harmless as the other ones. And no, I don't mind doing again what we did last week. Minor setbacks are normal: you just need a lot of practice for the moves to become natural to you, and I didn't give you enough. That was my mistake, and no failing of your own. Try again, go back to concentrating on your balance; once you perfect that, the rest will be much easier."

He nods and tries again, going back to not falling but missing his kicks. I leave him to it and to clear my mind, get to work on my own katas. I try to incorporate some of the moves Snake Eyes has used against me, but out of all the ones he's pulled that I don't already know, I only manage to reproduce one.

* * *

I'm just about to drift off that night when Billy calls out from the other end of the room.

"Sensei? Can we talk?"

I sit up on my futon and turn my flashlight on, setting it on the floor next to me, pointing at the ceiling. His voice is shaky and something is obviously bothering him.

"Of course. What's bothering you?"

He sighs. "Look, I wouldn't even say this if not for the fact that I really do trust you. I don't think you're going to like this one bit."

I look at him questioningly. "You don't want to leave, do you? That really wouldn't be wise."

"No, it's not that. It's… it's about the Order, and Cobra, and those memory flashes you're getting."

I blink at him. I really can't imagine what there is to discuss.

"I think you've got things backwards," he continues. "I think Cobra erased your memories, and they already implanted false ones, and those flashes you're getting are real memories."

I'd laugh if he didn't sound so serious. I'm thrilled he finally trusts me enough to speak his mind even though he knows I'll disagree with him, but above that, I can't believe he's managed to get such a crazy theory into his head.

"Why would Cobra do that? I was already their natural ally against the Order, they would have had no need to go to such lengths to get me to help them."

He shakes his head.

"You don't understand. It's all false. Everything you think you remember is wrong. There's no such thing as the Order. GI Joe DOES work for the American government, and their primary function is to counter major terrorist organizations like Cobra. If anybody killed everyone in your family, it's Cobra."

I frown at him.

"When I first mentioned the Order to you, you knew what I was talking about. Are you now telling me you were only humouring me? That you always thought the Order was an urban legend?"

He swallows, but his eyes never leave mine.

"Yes," he says. "I was. I was scared, and I was just trying not to give you a reason to kill me. There are conspiracy theories about things like a secret World Order that actually runs things, but it's no more real than the aliens held up in Area 51."

I sigh and shake my head. I really thought he was aware of the Order… this is a huge disappointment. As long as he doesn't figure out the truth, he'll never agree to help Cobra and do what is needed to gain his father's forgiveness.

"I'm glad you now realize you don't need to hide this from me, but I believe you're the one who has been misled. Can we agree to disagree for now and go to sleep? Tomorrow, I can explain in more details why I know the Order is real."

"Are you going to let me argue back?"

"Absolutely; I wouldn't be able to refute your arguments if you didn't present them."

"Thank you, Sensei. Good night."

"Good night, Billy."

I lay awake for a while, long after he drifts to sleep. I don't think he's been brainwashed, unlike my brother, but the parallel between them is still disheartening. Despite my brave words, I'm far from certain that I'll be able to convince him he's been fooled all his life.

* * *

As worried as he was in his third week about being a poor student, Billy's turned out to be the opposite. Three more weeks have made a huge difference, to the point that I'm now training him to deflect and catch relatively slow and big projectiles (in other words, thrown weapons as opposed to bullets or arrows) with his movements and sense of direction slightly impaired (I suspended him upside down) and while blindfolded.

That being said, as good as his speed and reflexes have gotten, his technique is still basic. We're still looking at months before he can actually hope to win a fight where his opponent doesn't give up after throwing his weapon at him. Just the same, I'm delighted with his progress.

I'm far less happy with my progress in setting him straight about Cobra and the Order. Our training sessions are usually filled with arguments and counter arguments on whether the Order even exists, whether Cobra really does any good, and numbers of other questions that we both think have obvious, opposite from each other, answers.

Today's session is no different. I don't mind the running conversation, quite the opposite: it provides a distraction and a sound interference, both of which make it harder to catch the swords.

"Look, if it existed, more people would know about the Order," he states.

"Just because something is not widely known doesn't make it false," I point out as I throw a first wooden sword at him, aiming for his navel. "For instance, most people would tell you what you just did is impossible," I add as he catches the sword.

He smirks.

"You've had me sweating all night about catching swords blindfolded, and you throw me a piece of wood?"

I snort.

"I was trying to make you a bit nervous," I say, throwing another sword at him, aiming for his chest this time, "but I didn't think you'd fall for it completely. You really need to get it into your head that I am not in fact insane."

He catches the sword again and gets back on subject.

"Not insane; brainwashed. Big difference. Think about everyone you know who works for Cobra. Is there a single one that you think is a hero? Someone trying to do good?"

"The Commander," I answer. I throw another sword at him, with much less strength than the previous ones, aiming for his head. Not only will the weaker throw not injure him if he misses, it also tests his ability to adjust to different throwing speed.

"Oh puh-lease!" he cries out. He completely misses the sword, which hits him square on target. "OWW!"

He puts his hands to his forehead, cursing. I throw another sword, aiming for his left thigh. He misses that one too and curses louder.

"Stop!" he begs. "Time out!"

I roll my eyes and the next sword hits his right shoulder. He almost catches this one.

"No enemy is going to stop attacking just because they got a hit in, unless that hit killed you," I lecture, throwing my last sword, aiming at his navel again. He catches this one.

"Yes, Sensei," he sighs. "But honestly, the Commander? Of course you'd believe that if HE brainwashed you! That doesn't count! Name someone else."

"That's not a fair question; you know I hardly know most of them."

"Because everybody was been instructed to minimize contact with you to reduce the risk they'll screw up and forget to play along with that Order nonsense."

"I think you're starting to be affected by the blood rushing to your head. You can get down."

He lets himself down, takes the blindfold off and gives me The Look. I hate that look: it's a cross between the puppy dog eyes and a little boy watching a puppy dog getting hit by a car. It's like he's begging me to stop being hurt, and it's only made worse by the fact his teenage pride forces him to frown through it, too, in an attempt to look more manly.

"Training scenes, day-to-day life, harmless stuff… the Order wouldn't send memories like that. You're getting them because training me is reminding you of your own training, and Snake Eyes's training. I mean, if he's under the control of the Order, why hasn't he ever hurt you?"

"The Order wants me alive if at all possible. Besides, he once wrecked both my arms: I couldn't use them properly for weeks. As for the harmless memories, the Order is sending them because they want me to conclude what you have: that they must be real because there's no rhyme or reason to them."

"Okay, look. Let's try this: let's assume, just pretend, that the Order doesn't exist and run through what we know, see if it makes sense."

"We've been through this, Billy. It doesn't. Katas."

He scowls at me but starts his first daily kata.

"First thing we know:" I start, "the world is a horrible place for a lot of people. Sticking to the most obvious example: anyone living in a Third World Country. Richer countries are constantly donating millions and millions, yet people still starve or, if they're lucky, survive long enough to die of some disease that no longer exists in the rest of the world. This kind of misery enduring in spite of the rest of the planet trying to help can only be explained by…"

"… the donations not being enough, or local bad guys stealing them," he interrupts me – without slowing down or missing a beat, I'm pleased to see.

"And all the more privileged countries are just completely incapable of stopping those small time crooks?"

"I'm pretty sure it's more complicated than that - I think I read somewhere that some of the local governments steal donations. People wouldn't stand for it if it were just small time crooks."

"You're being naive. People 'stand' for it because they block it from their mind. Nobody can spend their days crying over the daily deaths of hundreds of people they've never met. They cope with the knowledge by narrowing their focus and throwing pocket money at the problem."

"Or in some cases, by inventing a single evil entity to blame for it all and 'fighting' it by trying to spread awareness," he says, referring to the few people in the world who do know about the Order, and who he thinks are nothing but delusional conspiracy theorists.

He finishes his first kata flawlessly and launches into his second one. I suppose it's not surprising he turned out to not believe the Order exists: teaching him would be too perfect, otherwise. I can't even fret over not fighting the Joes or talking to my brother because as near as I can tell, Cobra hasn't faced the Order's troops since I've left.

"While others simply claim things are complicated and wash their hands of it entirely," I counter.

I could continue to list the global horrors that make it obvious to me that whoever is running the place delights in misery, but we've been down that road several times and it has never lead anywhere. I decide to change strategy.

"Admitting that you can't help everyone and choosing to concentrate on what you CAN do is not washing your hands of the problem," he argues, still without slowing down. If nothing else, our talks have thought him to multitask.

"Granted. Let's narrow our focus, then. How do you explain what happened to me? If GI Joe were heroes, they would not have murdered my family and helped capture me."

"I don't think they did."

"I remember it happening."

He finishes his second kata and launches into the third one.

"That memory was implanted by Cobra; THEY captured you."

I laugh at that.

"Do you really think Cobra would have successfully taken out my entire family? A clan of over 200 ninjas? Billy, I assure you, the Cobra troops are quite incapable of doing anything close to that. Despite your father's best efforts, he hasn't had much success recruiting quality personnel."

As usual, the mention of his father breaks his concentration. He slows down for a moment before recovering.

"Start over," I instruct. "First kata."

"Yes Sensei," he shifts position and starts back his first kata. "Maybe they didn't. Maybe your family is still alive."

I frown.

"Now you're just getting desperate for arguments. If my family were still alive, they would be looking for me and by now, they would have found me. If your theory on GI Joe being heroes were correct, Snake Eyes would still be himself and he wouldn't have failed to tell the rest of my family where I was when it became obvious I believed him to be brainwashed and that I would not listen to him. He would have gotten them to help convince me."

He shakes his head and continues with his katas. I leave him to it, content to have given him something to think about. It's no good pushing further today anyway; it would only make him angry and he'd react by closing himself up to any logic. It's better for me to be patient and let him work it out by himself; he's intelligent, so he's bound to realize sooner than later that every absurd theory he comes up with crumbles when analyzed.

* * *

By the following morning, I deeply regret not having pushed the issue as much as I could every day since he's first brought it up: the Order has implanted a new memory in me while I was asleep. I thought it was a nightmare at first, but it didn't dissipate upon my waking up and once I was awake, there was no mistaking what it was.

In addition to having come to me in my sleep, this one differs from the others by the fact that where they were all so harmless lately as to make me wonder why the Order would bother making them up, this one still makes me shiver just thinking about it.

In it, I witness the murder of my uncle without being able to stop it, and end up running away following my other uncle sentencing me to death for the murder.

Even though I know it never happened, the memory is downright painful, because the Order has supplied me with the memory of what I would have been feeling if it had happened, and they haven't gone easy on those feelings. I'm fighting off a mishmash of guilt, horror, grieving, heartbreak, fear and uncertainty on what to do next.

If I'd been more insistent with Billy, less patient about his figuring out the truth on the Order and Cobra, he might be ready to go back to Cobra by now. As it is, even if the perfect redemption opportunity presented itself, I wouldn't be able to seize it.

His voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Tommy? Did you hear my move?"

I blink. We were playing blind chess on the way to the supermarket as a way to train his mind since physical training on the street is out of the question. I was so immersed in my own thoughts that I didn't, in fact, register whatever move he just made.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I was… distracted. How did you move?"

"Queen to G5. What distracted you? Another memory?" he asks in a whisper.

I frown at him. I know he thinks these lies are actual memories, but I'm in no mood to humour this terminology right now.

"No," I growl, keeping my voice low as well. "Another FAKE memory."

"I take it this one's not very nice?"

I take a deep breath to prevent myself from starting to shout – he's not responsible for what the Order is doing to me.

"No, it wasn't," I admit, still whispering. "I was accused of a murder I already felt bad for not preventing, and sentenced to death on the spot by someone I loved and trusted. I think the Order may have been sending the other ones just so this one would be more of a shock."

Billy's eyes widen and his pulse accelerates.

"You… you're kidding. Right?" he asks, still whispering so that the other passers-by can't hear. "You were accused of murder and sentenced to death on the spot? By your family?"

"Ninjas wouldn't go through the justice system if they determined someone was guilty of killing one of their own. Bishop to F4."

"Don't you see?" he protests. "Cobra didn't need to attack your family, you ran away because they thought you killed someone! Cobra only had to capture YOU, by yourself, and that's also why your family is not looking for you!"

I roll my eyes at him.

"If that were the case, they would be looking for me even more intently. They'd be hunting me down."

"But… but… I don't think… I… okay, maybe. Knight to B3. Checkmate."

I curse under my breath. I should never have thought him blind chess; he wins more often than not. He smirks at me.

"You know, I can't actually remember the board nearly as well as you can, so each time I win, it's with a handicap," he teases, adopting a normal tone again.

"That handicap is more than compensated by mine."

"What handicap?" he asks.

"Well obviously, I'm a terrible chess player."

He snickers and once again, our arguments on the Order are put on hold, this time by the fact we're now at the supermarket, surrounded by too many people to have a conversation about Cobra and the Order, even in whispers.

I bring the topic up again as soon as we get back to the Tower, and don't relent all evening, through dinner and his training. My efforts are wasted: he counters everything I say. This is becoming frustrating to say the least – I can deal with the one bothersome false memory I have now, but between that one and all the benign ones, I'm getting worried the Order will just wear me down and completely confuse me. And Mindbender's help is not an option as long as Billy is not back in the Commander's good graces, which he'll never be unless I finally convince him of the truth about Cobra because he'll never agree to do something good enough to win him forgiveness. I'm starting to get worried about the time frame, too: Mindbender has always made it clear that memories were more difficult to remove the longer I waited.

I go to bed with a headache and I'm so put out with Billy that I find myself thinking of pain tolerance training. I quickly brush the thoughts off as nothing more than a virtual lashing out in frustration on my part – he's nowhere near ready for that yet, he barely makes it through the day when we do endurance training.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

There is a scene in the comic book where Storm Shadow places Billy upside down, blindfolded, and throws an actual sword at him. That's all well and good if he's done it plenty of time before, but it's my feeling that with only one apprentice, you would start with wooden swords if only to make sure you don't quickly end up with no apprentice and a body to dispose of. Good thing, too, considering the one Billy got in the noggin'.

With his flawless memory that should allow him to know 10 different winning games for any given position, you might be thinking Storm Shadow should be good at Chess. If he had ever made the effort to study it, he probably would be. He never has.


	26. Chapter 26

**Note on last chapter:**

A few people wondered what the Hard Master meant in that flashback when he said students like Tommy ruined their teachers. For anyone else who wondered but didn't ask, here's what I answered:

Tommy was considered a prodigy all his life, not because he learns very fast or because he's super strong, agile or fast (by ninja standards) but because he never needs to review anything: once a move is learned, it's in his muscle memory and it stays. This is exactly what Billy doesn't have, and why he could do a move the previous week but lost it again for lack of practice. Never having experienced that himself may be part of the reason Tommy 'forgot' students need to keep practicing acquired skills.

Students like that ruin their teachers in the sense that when you have a student that never needs to go back and practice things over and over again, and who never forgets lessons learned, your other students become a source of frustration because they still do. The Hard Master believes the Seeing Master left because they were trying to make him accept more students and he didn't want to have to start dealing with the repetitive nature of training normal students again. Tommy's memory is a family thing, so this has happened within the clan before.

I couldn't make the Hard Master explain it, because then Tommy would have found out before he was an adult about just how unusual his memory and muscle memory was, and I would have had to rewrite the first few chapters.

On to chapter 26.

* * *

**Chapter 26**

_Calm down._

_Between my father, my uncles and several other teachers, not to mention a few other clan members, including fellow students, I must have received this particular piece of advice at least twenty times since this morning._

_It's not that I don't want to do just that, but I can't even begin to imagine being able to. I'm trying anyway, because I know they're right, but I just can't: my blood is boiling in anger, and I don't even care if I get hurt, I just want to kill as many of them as I can. The Akai invaded our home, they're attacking everyone indiscriminately, they've already killed nine teachers, most of whom have taught me at one point or another, twenty students, and eight staff or family members, and they're trying for more._

_They've already paid for those lives with at least as many of their own: I've only taken out seven myself, but Father's a whirlwind of blades on the ground, and blood just seems to spray everywhere he goes. My uncles and my aunts are in the fray as well and even to me, they're just blurs._

_On my right, one of my brothers huffs at me._

_"Are you shooting or what? You got tons of arrows left!"_

_I clench my teeth. How dare he suggest I'm not trying my best? Just because I'm not wasting my arrows unless I have a shot… a glance reveals HE's out of arrows: he must have been doing cover fire._

_"Unlike you, I can actually AIM, so I've been told to snipe, not to provide cover fire," I hiss under my breath. "Here." I hand him my quiver. "I'll go get some more."_

_I put my bow down and take off. I hear him urgently whispering at me to wait but I ignore him. I know he's going to offer to go himself but I'm not having any of it – he's just provided me with the perfect excuse to leave my perch, get at ground level, and with any luck, run into a few Akai. The bow may be my favourite weapon, but right now, I'm more in the mood for closer range combat and for being able to attack without worrying about hitting my own kin, who have exhibited a rare talent in getting between me and my targets._

_I hear some commotion from inside the armoury and start running harder. There's a fight in there, and neither the blacksmith nor his family are fighters, so I'll get to dispose of the enemy ninjas myself._

_I'm almost at the door when I hear her: Amaya-chan, the smith's 8 year old daughter, lets out a piercing scream that stops as abruptly as it started, replaced by her father's howl. I try to hear her pulse as I run the last few strides but I can't: I hear her father and five people I don't recognize. The smith's wife is either not in the house or dead like her daughter. Amaya... she was eight! She wasn't even in training, she was no more a threat to them than the rocks in our gardens!_

_All traces of thoughts fly out of my mind. I unsheathe my swords and crash inside, screaming. The enemies are caught by surprise and three of them are dead before I encounter any significant resistance. I find myself on the defensive for a few blows with the other two, but one of them gets behind me and gains a false sense of security, swiping his sword in a wide motion meant to decapitate me. I hear the sword through the air, duck under it, and imitate his swipe at a lower level, cutting him in half at the waist._

_The other one surprises me by kicking me in the face and I fall back. I roll and throw my sword at him. He deflects it, but misses the shuriken that follows it; it hits him between the eyes and buries itself right into his skull, with only one point still poking out._

* * *

I wake up and clamp my hands to my mouth to stifle a scream. Billy shifts but doesn't wake up.

I bring my knees up to my chest and circle them with my arms, trying to steady myself. Amaya-chan… she was real, even if the Order invented a new death for her. She's the girl I hear dying in the only real memory I have left, the fragment of the battle against GI Joe on the day my family was slaughtered.

Her face surfaces in my mind, and I know it's not a real memory because I'm seeing her in her coffin and in reality, I never attended her funerals or those of anyone else from my family – I was a prisoner of the Order instead, where all my memories of them were being carefully erased.

It takes all my willpower not to whimper. Some of the emotions that come with this memory are the very ones I couldn't feel when I found out all my family had been killed. It hurts, and yet it feels right that I should be feeling this pain.

Except, of course, that I'm grieving from a false memory, something that never happened and that only echoes reality. It's not right at all… I'm grieving a family that, for all I know, is nothing like the real one. I don't even know if that's really how Amaya-chan looked like. I don't even know if that was really her name.

The other emotion that washes through me as the false memory settles itself in my brain, there to stay and drive me mad until I can get back to Mindbender, is one I'm feeling now anyway: paralyzing fear.

In the memory, I'm terrified that more people will die. In particular, I'm afraid for my father, my uncles and my aunts, and as much as the me from the memory is refusing to admit it, I'm afraid for my own life as well. Behind the fear is a sense that I'm being selfish, that I should be more worried about the other children than about myself and adults who can look after themselves.

In reality, I'm terrified of what these false memories are doing to me. Pictures of people that may not even exist continually pop up in my head whenever I think of my clan, such as when I'm teaching Billy techniques unique to my family. After over three years, the Order is finally getting somewhere with me: the false memories are feeling more real every day, and I'm constantly having to remind myself that they're not.

I need to get back to Mindbender, but I can't: I can't abandon Billy. I can't leave him here alone: the Order would find him sooner or later, unless Cobra beats them to it.

Speaking of Billy, he suddenly gasps and shoots up to a sitting position. I make myself stop trembling and call to him in an even, calm, soothing tone. I don't want him to know how frazzled I am; he'd guess why and I can't handle talking about the Order right now.

"Billy? Are you all right?"

He jumps at the sound of my voice anyway.

"I… I'm fine. Just a nightmare. Bad dream. It's nothing. Sorry I woke you up. I…"

"Your voice is shaking," I remark.

"It was pretty bad," he admits. "I got captured and brainwashed. Wound up killing everyone I know before I could wake up."

He clicks his flashlight on. I quickly change position, but not quickly enough: he catches the movement and points the flashlight towards me.

"Were you already awake?" he asks.

"Yes," I admit. "It's a night for unpleasant dreams, it seems."

"You're still shaking," he remarks. "Was it a dream or an implanted memory?"

I scowl. "An implanted memory. I do NOT want to discuss it right now. Turn the light off and go back to sleep."

Saying that, I lie back down and turn on my side.

"Must have been a nasty one."

I turn my head to glare at him, but he has the only light source pointed straight at me: I can barely see his silhouette. I debate ignoring the comment, but I know there is nothing I can do that will convince him to drop the subject until I've satisfied his curiosity.

"I was about your age, and in the middle of a clan war where my home was under attack. I heard a girl die, the same one as in the only real memory I have. The events have nothing to do with the Order or Cobra, and I will not discuss it further. Go to sleep."

"Yes, Sensei."

He turns his flashlight off and I hear him settle back on his futon. It takes him a while to actually go back to sleep, but he still manages it before I can.

He dreamed about being captured and brainwashed… easy to guess where THAT idea seeped into his brains. He thinks it's what Cobra did to me, and now he's afraid he'll endure the same fate if his father ever gets his hands on him again. Convinced as he is that I'm delusional, he must be terrified of the day where I'll wrongly assume it's safe to do so and hand him back over to the Commander.

I'll have to make sure tomorrow that I make it clear I won't do that without his full consent. I don't want him running away – with both Cobra and the Order looking for him and nothing but basic training under his belt, he'd be dead within the week. He's my apprentice; it's my duty to keep him safe. The fact I can hardly be considered responsible for a runaway apprentice crosses my mind but I ignore it. I won't disown him even if he does run: it would only be out of fear, it wouldn't be a betrayal.

* * *

It's still pitch black inside when I get up the following morning. I poke my head out and catch a glimpse between buildings of a red sun rising above the horizon. I smile at the good omen before I get back in, tap some lights on and start cooking our breakfast.

Billy is awaken by the smell, as always, and tumbles over, scratching his cheek absently and trying to feel a stubble that just won't start growing. I chuckle at him.

"You're thirteen, relax. It'll come. You'll miss these days when it does, shaving is time consuming."

"Nah. I'll grow a beard," he answers sleepily. "You should try too. You could hide a couple of shuriken in it."

I snort and hand him his plate.

"Omelette and toast," he comments. "Seaweed omelette, but still… Endurance training today, is it? You only ever make a western breakfast when you're going to make me suffer."

I give him a mock scowl. "Has it occurred to you that I might just be trying to be nice?"

"Yeah, right," he snickers. "If you ever serve me pancakes, I'll probably die of fright."

I chuckle. "Don't worry about that. I don't see how filling you up with…"

He interrupts me, imitating me so badly I wouldn't know that's what he's trying to do if he wasn't paraphrasing what I always tell him when he longs for junk food.

"…how filling me up with garbage is going to help my training, and if I want to harm my body that badly, I should at least be efficient about it and cut myself or, if it's internal damage I'm after, ingest some arsenic."

I snatch his plate away, scowling. My first thought is to send him running around the block ten times, but since I haven't had a chance to reassure him on my intentions to wait for his approval before bringing us back to Cobra, I'm too worried he won't come back. I settle, grudgingly, on floor exercises.

"One hundred push-ups for each arm, and one hundred sit-ups. Then you can have breakfast."

"Push-ups? Really? Like in the army?"

"Don't make me choose a more traditional ninja punishment, Billy."

He cocks his head, looks for a moment like he's going to comment on that, then thinks better of it and gets started on his push-ups.

I wait until he's done to eat my own breakfast as well and do a few katas while I'm waiting, mostly to relax. We sit down to cold omelettes and toasts and when we're done swallowing the last of it, I push the plates away and gesture at him to stay seated.

"Nightmares often reflect our apprehensions. I think you're worried that I will eventually cause you to be back in the custody of Cobra and that they will kill you or brainwash you like you believe they did to me."

He lowers his eyes and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts before he answers.

"I know you wouldn't put me in danger intentionally. But… well… you think they're the good guys!"

He sounds so exasperated that I refrain from automatically insisting that they are and just motion him to continue.

"And I know you ultimately want to get us forgiven by the Commander. I don't even want to THINK about how you intend to do that. They've made you fight GI Joe before, and I honestly don't blame you for what you've done, but for Christ's sake, you've been killing the GOOD guys! I know you don't think so, but…"

"But you do," I interrupt him. "And you don't like the idea that I may intend to gain us forgiveness by doing more of the same. I wouldn't expect you to, not until you see the truth."

"Really? And how patient are you going to be? You've been getting more memories… how badly do you wish you could go in for a treatment with Mindbender right now? How long are you going to wait for me to be enlightened or whatever?"

"As long as it takes., I answer. "I promise I will not drag you back against your will, or make you harm people you still think are innocent."

He looks at me without replying, still breathing a bit heavily from his agitation but visibly calming down: he knows just how seriously I take promises. He finally lowers his eyes.

"Thank you for that., he mutters. He looks like he's about to add something, but doesn't.

* * *

He's not completely wrong about my being impatient, of course, and he was also half right about breakfast – I'm not making him do endurance training, today, but it will be the first time we actually spar. I can't responsibly pull my blows more than strictly necessary: he'd only get the impression that getting hit doesn't hurt all that much.

He pales when I tell him to get into duelling position.

"We're going to fight?"

I nod and scowl at him. He's not in position yet. He gets the hint and assumes a defensive stance.

"So I was right," he groans. "You ARE going to make me suffer."

"Only if you don't block properly. You're ready for this, Billy. I can only keep you on basic training for so long before it becomes a waste of time."

Saying so, I direct a punch at his stomach. His block hits my forearm just as my fist sinks into his midsection. He goes down, bent in two.

I roll my eyes at him, not that he can see me: he's rolled into a ball, his eyes clenched shut. I push his head back with my foot – not quite kicking him because blows to the head are almost never a good idea, but roughly enough to make the point, brutally uncurling him and sending him on his back. He springs back to his feet and gets into position again.

"What was that?" I ask him. "Curling into a ball after a punch… did it really hurt so badly that you wanted to die to end the pain?"

"No, Sensei."

"I expected you to block that punch," I scold him. "You were way too slow. I suggest you shape up: this is not a good day for you to be feeling lazy. Now attack me."

I'm not even done saying it that his foot is already flying towards my face. I duck under it, grab his leg, and throw him on the floor a few feet away. He springs right back to his feet and assumes a defensive stance again.

"Good reaction time, but don't make moves that leave you so vulnerable on a fresh opponent unless you're sure he's much slower than you."

As I was talking, he's attacked me again, going low this time, trying to swipe my legs. I skip over it and he applies one of his katas by getting up on his arms and aiming a spinning kick at my head. I roll to avoid it.

_I roll to avoid Snake Eyes' latest attempt at parting my head from the rest of my body._

The scene that crosses my mind is extremely short, but the memory actually includes all the thoughts and feelings I would have experienced at the time. It feels like a full scale assault on my mind and my emotions, and I'm literally stunned.

I know Snake Eyes is trying very hard to kill me, because he believes I've murdered my own uncle and he's found out I've been working for the ruthless terrorist organization called Cobra when I kidnapped someone named Scarlett on their behalf.

I feel utterly betrayed that he'd do that. I'm crushed that he thinks so lowly of me AND that he's got every right to, and I'm furious that he'd try to kill me after I saved his life and shared my family with him. The feelings are so strong that despite the fact it's happening, I'm in denial: I can't believe he'd do that.

I'm also desperate to stay alive because I want to avenge the uncle whose murder I was framed for – since everyone else blames me for it, if I don't get vengeance for him, nobody will.

I'm convinced I can't win the fight, partly because I can't stand the thought of seriously hurting my brother. I wouldn't say no to punching him in the face at that moment, but it feels vitally important that I don't betray my clan by harming him – it feels like it'd be the last straw to do so, the last bad thing I haven't done. Therefore, I'm fighting back panic on top of everything else.

I hear myself groan and although I do realize it won't work, I shut my eyes and clamp my hands to my ears in an effort to block out whatever waves the Order sends to me to create these memories.

It has no effect. The scene keeps replaying, bringing back more flashes to complement the invented thoughts and emotions.

I see a young version of myself running between bullets, with who I know is a younger version of Snake Eyes draped on my shoulders, wounded. I feel elated because he's alive, yet worried because I don't know how badly he's hurt.

I see myself waking up in a homeless refuge, reading a note stuck on my chest that I interpret as his promising me he won't spare me twice and calling me a murderer. It drives home the fact everybody I care about now hates me, and I'm furious at the injustice of it.

Billy's voice brings me back to the present.

"Sensei?"

I snap my eyes open and lock them on his to stop seeing the flood of false memories, but my vision is all blurry. I try to concentrate on his pulse and breathing to stop hearing the sounds of my fight with Snake Eyes, but I can't shake off the sound of his blade whistling towards my throat, over and over again.

"Sensei! Snap out of it! Tommy!"

His voice is urgent, and he has his hands on my shoulders. I concentrate harder on him, and finally, the imaginary noises dim.

"I… I'm okay," I stammer. "I…" I frown at him. "Why didn't you take advantage of my distraction to attack me? And why are you calling me Tommy? We're not in public!"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Because you're not actually my enemy, duh. And I was trying to get a reaction. I've been calling out to you for like, five minutes. I would have started calling you random names, next."

I sigh and get up. I was completely out of it for several minutes, then. I look at him before turning away again – he's giving me The Look again, the cross between a puppy dog and a heartbroken child, worse than ever.

"I'm fine," I lie. "Let's…"

"No you're not," he interrupts me. "You were crying. I know you well enough to guess you haven't done that in front of someone else since you were a baby."

I glare at him. "It was just a physical response to the simulated emotions: I wasn't even aware of it. I'm fine NOW."

"What emotions? What was the memory?"

"The details don't matter. Attack."

Saying so, I put myself back in the duelling position. He crosses his arms.

"Tell me," he demands. "You said you would. You agreed to."

My eyes narrow. The demand is made all the more irritating by the fact that he's right in saying that I agreed to this: he's convinced these memories are real and he thinks they hold the clues that will make ME realize as much as well. To preserve good faith in our arguments about what is real and what isn't, I agreed to share them with him because he felt I would deprive him of useful information if I didn't.

"Snake Eyes was trying very hard to kill me," I growl. "I was… devastated."

"Was he trying to kill you because he thought you killed your uncle?"

"Partly. It was also because I was part of Cobra. That's all there is to it. Now attack or I will."

He throws a punch quickly followed by a kick. I block both and grab both limbs. He uses my hold as leverage to kick with his other leg. I let go of his arm, grab his second leg before it touches me and spin him to throw him back on the floor. He yelps on landing but springs back to his feet.

"Better," I comment. "But you're still making risky moves."

"What move did Snake Eyes use on you?" he asks. "When he was trying to kill you, I mean."

I clench my jaw and my fists. He tenses and adopts a more strictly defensive stance. I start throwing punches, following a sequence that matches one of his daily katas. He almost misses the third one but he then notices the pattern and launches into his kata. I'm talking at the same time, answering his question mostly so he won't realize how shaken I still am.

"The only move I saw was his swiping at my throat with his sword. When we fight for real, he uses complex combos… a bit more complex than strictly necessary, actually. He has show-off-y tendencies."

His eyes are wide as he blocks every blow and forces me into specific moves just by following his kata. He's not quite awed enough by the realization his katas do work in a real fight to drop the subject of the Order's latest creation, however.

"Why were you so devastated? In the memory?"

We reach the end of the kata. I automatically launch into another one. I hit him with the first two blows but he starts blocking properly on the third one and from there, follows the appropriate pattern.

"Well?" he asks.

"The Order makes it look like he was a very close friend. Some of the thoughts and emotions that accompanied the visual memory were designed to emphasize a strong feeling of betrayal and loss. They made it look as though he owed me his life, and saw it as appropriate repayment to not kill me the first chance he got."

"So you were heartbroken," he concludes, continuing the kata flawlessly.

I shrug. "I think that was the general idea, yes."

"So you two were close…" he muses.

It's the last he speaks of it. He spends the rest of the morning on more general Order versus Cobra discussion, something I'm very grateful for.

* * *

I go out mid-afternoon to get some groceries, leaving him to do his daily katas since he hasn't had time yet to do them today. He doesn't need to be supervised through those anymore, and truth be told, I do enjoy being alone from time to time: it gives me a chance to think about what to do rather than endlessly debate the very existence of the Order.

Not that the thinking time is helping much – I have no more brilliant ideas on how to proceed from here by the time I start climbing the ladder back to the tower than when I left.

My thoughts are brutally interrupted as I get close enough to the water tower to hear Billy's pulse, by the fact that I don't. I rush up the rest of the way and burst in, deathly afraid I'll find his body there and refusing to believe the ideal scenario that he just went out to use the bathroom.

There is no body in the tower, but almost as bad if not worse, there IS a folded piece of paper in the middle of the floor, with my name written in English on it, in his writing. I pick it up with a trembling hand.

"Don't say you're going to find the Joes. Don't say you're going to find the Joes…" I chant as I unfold it and start reading.

_Dear Sensei,_

_I'm sorry to leave like this, I know you're going to worry. You really don't need to, but I'm sure you're going to anyway even if I write that a gazillion times._

_I hope I'm not making a mistake. Sometimes it seems like you're better off not remembering anything, but I can't make that decision. It's not right what Cobra did to you. I think that if it was up to you, you'd choose to remember the truth rather than live a lie._

I grip the paper tighter as I realize he intends to do something, what I don't know, in an effort to give me back my memories. I read through as fast as I can, looking for a clue as to where he's headed first and praying he's not going to go look for Snake Eyes – I can't stand the thought of his falling into the hands of the Order.

_I owe you my life, and I know I didn't take it seriously when you first explained the bond between a student and his sensei, but I do now. I can't leave you like this. You're eventually going to panic and go back to Cobra because you'll think it's the only way to prevent the Order from getting you. When you do that, they're going to remove all your memories again and keep using you._

_I'm not trying to sound all grand and noble and just worried for you, here. I'm afraid for myself, too. If they get you back, they'll find a way to make you get ME back, too. I know you wouldn't want that, and I'm afraid that I'll end up like you, and neither of us will ever be free, and we'll do a lot of horrible things for the rest of our lives._

_I'm going to look for members of your family and tell them you were framed and brainwashed, and we'll figure out a way to help you._

_I'm looking forward to meeting the real you. Don't think you'll be rid of your student that easily._

_Billy_

I glare at the paper so hard that if there were such a thing as releasing one's chi in the form of energy outbursts, I would no doubt have burnt a hole through it.

Stupid teenager! My first thought it to let him face his own mistake, let him get himself captured, forget about the foolish kid and get back to Cobra and to my oaths of avenging my clan and saving my brother. Billy has distracted me long enough as it is.

Not that there's any chance I'd do that. He's my apprentice, and I won't abandon him just because he's being an idiot. 'I'm going to look for members of your family'… how brain dead does he think I am? The only member of my clan he knows about is Snake Eyes and even through his delusion that the rest of them are still alive, he has no hope to find them, so it's obvious Snake Eyes is the one he's going to try and contact. And as soon as he does, my brother will lead him straight to GI Joe, thinking he's doing him a favour.

I've got to find him before he stumbles upon the Pit or Snake Eyes. For all I know, he might show some efficiency in dooming himself by just approaching the first soldier he sees and request to talk to someone from GI Joe. I've got to find him, and fast.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In order to really get in Storm Shadow's head, I have to force myself to think like he does to some degree. So, I spend a chunk of my writing time making myself think everything Storm Shadow believes is true. This lead to me re-reading the letter and thinking "Wait. Billy's not stupid, so why DID he leave? I have to justify that." For about a second before remembering it wasn't stupid at all for the very reasons Billy wrote, and that he therefore justified it himself very well.

Yes, I'm going insane. I may also be lacking some sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

I spend the rest of the day, the night and most of the following day scouring the streets, to no avail.

By then, I can't deny the obvious anymore: it's almost certain that by now, my apprentice is in custody of the Joes, which means I need to go get him back from the Pit. At least, with the amount of damage I intend to do there, I should be back in the Commander's good graces by the time Billy and I get back out.

I head back to the water tower first for a quick meal. I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday and I've been up all night – attacking the Pit like this would only serve to get myself captured as well and for both our sakes, I can't take that chance.

Approaching, I hear someone who is sadly not Billy already in there. Whoever it is sounds hauntingly familiar but I can't place him or her – my first thought is that Cobra tracked me down and someone was sent to approach me, but that seems unlikely: most troopers couldn't get paid enough to knock on my door at the base, there's no way they would have found one to ambush me in my hideout all by himself or herself.

I can approach this situation in several different ways. I could shoot the person through the wall on the assumption that it's an enemy, but that would be wasteful if it turns out to just be someone looking for shelter who stumbled on the place and downright damaging if it turns out to be someone from Cobra after all.

I could also crash in with my swords out and attack the person in a non-lethal way until I've assessed what they want. I can easily picture a homeless person seeking shelter having a heart attack if I did that, and a trooper would probably also react negatively. Given that I hardly need to have my weapons out already to take on any possible threat, I dismiss that option too.

This leaves me with the more gentle approach of just going in and confronting the intruder. I listen out to make sure the person doesn't move to attack, position myself so that I'll be able to throw back or at least dodge something thrown at me, and climb in.

The person waiting for me is sitting at the far end of the room in the lotus position, looking straight at me with an indecipherable expression. Despite the lack of actual threat, I instantly regret not having shot him through the wall: this man is part of the implanted memories as the 'uncle' who sentences me to death, which means he works for the Order and is probably here to help my enslavement along.

I take out my bow and shoot, aiming for his heart.

He catches the arrow with his right hand and turns that arm in such a way as to show me the symbol tattooed on it – the same one Snake Eyes and I share.

* * *

My eyes widen and I put my bow away. I can't imagine any scenario where I won't end up killing him within the next 20 minutes, but Billy might have seen the tattoo, assumed this man was part of my family, and directed him here. If that's the case, the old man knows where my apprentice is.

"Where is he?" I ask thunderously. "The boy who sent you here… where is he now?"

"Your apprentice is safe;" the man replies, "he's with Snake Eyes. To…"

I clench my jaw. So much for the faint hope Billy might not have been captured yet.

"That doesn't qualify as safe," I growl, interrupting him. "Where did he take him?"

Saying so, I advanced on him, and I accent my last question by pressing the tip of my sword to his throat.

Next thing I know, the sword is out of my grip and being flung to one side of the room. I jump back and unsheathe my other sword.

"You think I'm a threat to you," he says. It's an observation, not a question.

"I know who you are," I snarl. "You're all over the implanted memories, so you work for the Order and you're here to help ensure I soon do as well. I won't let you. You might live through this IF you first tell me where Billy is and then vanish out of here as fast as your legs will carry you."

He lowers his eyes and shakes his head sadly; he looks so miserable that it suddenly occurs to me that he might be just as delusional as Snake Eyes. The Commander has always insisted that the Order only flipped people rarely because of the cost, but who's to say they don't do it to several of one group of people when they find a group interesting enough? Like, say, a clan of ninjas? Perhaps the old man survived the mass murder too? Or maybe he was taken earlier, like Snake Eyes. It's even possible he was away at the time and was only flipped recently, following his being found by the Order. Alternatively, he may not be from my family at all – our symbol is not precisely difficult to reproduce.

I sheathe my sword but I continue to glare at him. "Who do YOU think you are?" I ask him. "TALK!" I bark when he doesn't respond quickly enough.

"An idiot," he sighs. "A blind old fool. A…"

He stops himself upon noticing my sword is back out.

"Don't waste my time," I warn him.

"I'm sorry," he says, "but you need to listen to me. Your student is fine, I swear it."

"At this point, I doubt you can be trusted to know your own name… which, incidentally, is the only reason I haven't killed you yet. You had better start giving me straight answers, old man. Who do you think you are?"

He actually smiles. It's a sad smile, and yet suddenly, he looks like an ally. I shake my head and tighten the grip on my sword, cursing under my breath. The Order's really got me messed up… I need to stop being silly, I can't let them play with my head by using this man.

I charge him. He somehow slips right by me and grips the sword he sent flying earlier. He adopts my usual defensive stance.

"If you were really from my past, you would not be stalling me like this," I growl. "Copying my technique will not help you confuse me – it's easy to guess you may have learned it from Snake Eyes or even from observing me."

He raises an eyebrow. "Snake Eyes, teach ME? No. I dare say that although he surely would have in time, he hasn't reached my level yet. You can't win a fight against me, Tommy."

I scoff. Snake Eyes and I are the best, no matter how much trash talking this fat old man does. "We'll see."

I attack again. He meets my attack, blocking it with no apparent difficulty, and keeps talking.

"I know your every move, especially your most advanced ones – I'm the one who taught you those. Tommy, you need to remember. GI Joe did not kill anyone from our clan, much less hundreds. By the time you left, there were 25 of us living in the compound." His eyes narrow and haze briefly. "24."

"Where's Billy?" I demand, ignoring the fairytale he's trying to spin and still attacking.

He continues to block me effortlessly. This is certainly starting to seem strange. I brush the thought from my mind, knowing my being confused is precisely what the Order wants, and decide that the exact reason for my opponent being so good against me is irrelevant.

"Listen to me," he pleads. "I can understand the attraction of not believing any of this, but it's still the truth. I KNOW that's what you want, so listen!"

I snarl at him but choose to concentrate on the fight rather than talk back – I need to get rid of him and get out of here to go find Billy. He blocks everything I do and keeps on talking.

"When my brother was killed, I was completely certain you were the murderer. All the evidence pointed to you and you alone. I was devastated that you had done such a thing, and I was heartbroken because you were lost to me just as much as my brother was, but there was no doubt in my mind that you had indeed killed your uncle."

I clench my teeth as his voice from the implanted memories plays itself in my mind, judging me guilty and ordering my brother to kill me or bring me to him for execution. It's not real, I know it's not, but he's managing to prevent me from suppressing the memory.

I scream and throw myself at him in a desperate attempt to shut him up. He slips under me and kicks me further away from himself.

I need to calm down, I'm being stupid. I can defeat him if I just concentrate. I force myself to get in a duelling stance – as opposed to just pouncing on him again – and try to attack him again, this time methodically, following the most complicated pattern I know, the one I was able to reproduce after Snake Eyes used it on me.

His eyes widen briefly but he still blocks my every move.

"I sent the whole clan after you, with instructions to kill unless they could capture you safely. Your brother reported three days later that he had found you and let you go. I almost killed him on the spot before he could reveal he had done it to repay a life debt."

"You're nothing if not consistent," I sneer. "It won't help: sheer repetition is not enough to make me believe those lies!"

"He went as far as trying to encourage you to run if you were innocent and come straight for him as opposed to someone else if you were the crazed murderer we believed you to be. He left a note on your chest saying nothing else than that his debt was paid, knowing you'd fill in the blanks and deduce that he thought you were guilty too, and that he would have killed you if not for his debt."

The man can certainly talk a lot while fighting. This is becoming downright eerie – I'm honestly doing my best and he's blocking everything while talking a mile a minute.

"We never did find you. You disappeared from Japan, and for eight years, your brother insisted it pointed to your innocence. For eight years, I told him he was deluding himself and made him swear he would not let you hurt anyone else."

Eight years… I wonder if that's how long he had been with the Order when they attacked our home. It would explain why the number does seem significant. I scowl at myself – I can't start imagining bits of truth in all the lies this man is repeating to me. Just because he believes them himself and is almost certainly a victim - like my brother - doesn't make his presence here less dangerous to me. I need to get out of here before he manages to confuse me; I need to go rescue Billy.

I edge towards the trap door, intent on slipping out and running away. It's not exactly my proudest moment to be trying to flee an old overweight man, but I can't stick around any longer: I'm in danger of falling to the Order and Billy is already in their hands.

Next thing I know, the man is standing on top of the door, staring at me. I glare at him and he smirks.

"I knew you'd try to run. As proud as you always were, you were also always practical. You're afraid I'm going to twist your mind, and you think your student is in danger, so of course you're going to try to flee."

"Move," I growl. "Get out of my way. I know you're just a victim too, there is a small chance you actually are part of my family, so I'd prefer not to kill you."

"I'm not so oblivious as to not realize you can't back up this threat. I've told you right from the start, you cannot defeat me. I know all your moves and I can read you like a book. I assure you, your student is safe and you will be as well."

He pauses for a quarter of a second and launches right back into his story.

"I just told you your brother spent eight years trying to convince me and himself that you were innocent. After those eight years, he saw you again: an agent of Cobra who had just kidnapped one of his team mates and who had been reported directly responsible for the deaths of dozens of soldiers, some of them from his own unit."

I don't bother answering. Instead, I attack him again.

He grabs my sword midway through my first strike and wrenches it away from me, throwing it behind him. There is not even a discernable pause in his speech.

"He was in shock. Your presence with Cobra was the final proof that he'd been wrong about you all along, that you were the murderer the rest of us thought you to be. He couldn't think clearly for most of your fight on that night, and escaped without having been able to set his mind to killing you, but desperate to reach that very resolution. He wrote to me to report he'd found you but had been unable to subdue you, expressing tortured regrets for not seeing the truth earlier, for allowing you to escape and to serve Cobra, for allowing you to kill dozens if not, for all he knew, hundreds of people."

We're still fighting while he's going on. I'm trying to ignore what he's saying and I can't – not a good sign. As if to confirm that, a new false memory hits me and it suddenly seems like I can remember the very fight he was just talking about – I remember being angry because Snake Eyes wouldn't talk to me, not realizing he was mute; I also remember that he was sometimes targeting vital spots and sometimes not, while the woman I'd have kidnapped was constantly aiming at my throat.

I jump away from him and shake my head, wincing in spite of myself. This can't be happening. He's going to bend me, he's going to make me believe the lies… I scream and jump at him again, trying to knock him from the door so I can escape.

He doesn't budge and pushes me back from himself, still talking.

"The letter reopened wounds that I had hoped were closed. I was furious at both of you, and I took the first plane I could to New York. I intended to make Snake Eyes tell me where to find you and to go take you out myself, but when I got there, he refused and swore he would kill you himself. I think he was worried about me taking on the whole of Cobra… carrying this weight around to make myself look deceptively harmless works a bit too well, sometimes. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for him to make that oath?"

"Seeing this idea is plucked directly from my attempting to put him out of his misery a few weeks back, yes," I growl as I start attacking him again. I use quick combos, not so much because I think they'll work as because I'm trying to tire him out. He's good, but he's still old – my best bet is to try his stamina against mine.

"When he saw you next, he tried his absolute best to kill you. Do you know why?"

I don't answer, concentrating on relentlessly attacking him. He continues to block and after a few seconds, he answers his own question.

"He didn't want to have to try twice. He believed he had to kill you, and was determined to do so, but he couldn't stand the thought of having to try and go through with it more than once. He wanted it done and over with."

I swallow. I can understand the desire, I felt the exact same way when I tried to kill him. In the end, I couldn't even go through with it once.

My eyes widen. What am I thinking? I'm sympathizing with emotions he's never had, associated with events that never happened! I narrow my eyes and increase the speed of my attacks. His eyes narrow as well but he continues to block everything.

"He even attempted to put himself in the Arashikage mindset, despite the absence of anyone who would have been able to take him OUT of it anywhere nearby. He didn't succeed, but I had a sore throat for days following my telling him off for even trying. You ended up being captured, thanks to another soldier knocking you out and bodily restraining your brother, who was at least not willing to go so far as hurting his team mates to spare himself the necessity to face you again some other time."

I start punctuating my attacks with shouts to drown him out. I feel like a child blocking his ears and singing loudly to avoid hearing something, but I'm desperate at this point. His latest blurb has me picturing the whole scene with crystal clear clarity, despite the fact his screaming at anyone seems out of character – an impression that is also only rooted in false memories. The implanted feelings are becoming impossible to fend off, and by now, the only thing I'm feeling that is not implanted is fear, quickly growing into panic.

"You were taken prisoner, and although you escaped within an hour, you managed to deeply confuse him," he continues. I can hear him through my shouts, so I stop them to save my energy. I'm still fresh, but judging by his even voice, breathing and pulse, so is he.

This can't be happening. I can't shut him up, I can't run, and the more he talks, the more difficult it gets to ignore the implanted memories and emotions he's stirring up with his fairytale. I know he's telling me all this to make me sympathize with my brother while at the same time correlating to the lies the Order is trying to sell me, but the knowledge of what he's doing isn't helping much right now. I increase the speed of my attacks again, giving up on form for the sake of speed, hoping he won't take the openings I'm creating since he's not trying to physically hurt me.

He immediately kicks me in the stomach, hard. I stagger back and barely block the next blow, directed at my head. So much for not having to worry about giving him openings.

"I told you, Tommy, I can read your every intention. I know you're trying to tire me out: I won't let you get away with sacrificing your defence in order to increase the intensity of your attack."

I snarl at him and throw a couple of shurikens at him. He catches the first one and uses it to knock the second one out of the air.

"While you were in captivity, you mentioned during an interrogation that you only needed the Cobra Commander for two more years. Your brother assumed, like his commanding officers, that you were just playing with them and thought nothing of it until the soldier who had been guarding your cell when you escaped was found unconscious."

My eyes widen in spite of myself – this is not one of the implanted memories, but it's seeping in as he speaks: I'm getting images of the Joe's General, Hawk, interrogating me in the presence of a small battalion of soldiers.

I scream and launch myself at him again, knowing it's not going to work but hoping to make him stop talking, if only briefly. He tosses me aside and starts again, having stopped all of two seconds.

"You used a balled up spring as a projectile to hit him on the sleeping point below his ear. The soldier confirmed, after coming to, that you had made him turn his head."

Once again, a memory that hadn't been implanted yet emerges as he talks. I 'remember' hardly being able to believe the Joes had been stupid enough to give me a spring mattress.

I continue to attack him but I switch to slower, stronger, more calculated attacks, no longer trying to tire him out because it's become obvious he'll have me eating out of the Order's hand before that happens. Instead, I'm just desperately trying to find an opening that will allow me to get him away from the door so I can bolt out of here.

He stops my every effort, but he's finally starting to be short of breath. That fact doesn't stop him from talking, however.

"In other words," he continues, "he was facing you and instead of aiming for his throat and killing him, you made him turn to knock him unconscious. This act of mercy was all your brother needed to believe all over again that we'd been wrong about you, that something was up. To him, it proved you weren't a monster, and he started investigating the other things you did with Cobra. Within a week, he was convinced that you only worked for Cobra because you somehow had no choice, and that for every soldier you killed, you had avoided injuring at least two more."

I'm completely powerless to stop the emotions that hit me when he tells me that. As if any of this were true, I'm overjoyed by the idea that my brother was finally on my side again. I actually stop moving for a second, and notice for the first time that I'm just as out of breath as my opponent is.

I can't let this happen, but I have no idea how to stop it. If I kill myself, not only will I not fulfill either of my oaths, I'd be abandoning Billy to the same fate as my brother. I'm not completely defeated yet, I need to keep trying until it becomes certain that my survival won't help me achieve my goals or rescue Billy.

"The next time he saw you, he had his mind set to drag you aside and make you explain everything to him. His unit was sent as reinforcement against Cobra, who was attacking the soldiers guarding the UN convention, and he was completely certain that he would find you involving yourself as little as you could while still saving appearances. Instead, just as he found you, he received word that you were directly responsible for most of the soldier casualties on that day."

I clench my teeth and shake my head in a vain attempt to clear the confusion away. Suddenly talking about things that did happen, presenting them as a logical continuation of the lies he was telling earlier, is making the false memories feel even more real. I make myself attack him again, but by now, I'm so concentrated on keeping my sanity that I'm not even sure anymore what my attack strategy should be. I keep going back and forth between actually hoping to defeat him and just trying to shove him off the trap door.

This is quickly going from bad to worse, and just to add to my troubles, I'm pretty sure I'm starting to panic: my pulse is quicker than physical exertion accounts for at this point, and I can't pretend my thoughts are flowing very clearly and logically right now.

"He was crushed," the old man continues. I suddenly find myself thinking of him as the Soft Master, an information I know comes straight from the implanted memories, and for an instant, I think my sword is shaking in my hand before I realize I'm the one shaking.

I hear myself whimper and clench my teeth tighter to stop myself. I can't believe this is happening… after over three years, the Order is finally beating me down, with a delusional old man.

He continues relentlessly.

"He again tried to kill you, but this time, his attempts were relatively short-lived: you managed to make him doubt again by asking him who he was and acting as though you didn't recognize him. He thought at first you were just playing with him, but when you expressed sincere shock at realizing he was part of your clan, he finally concluded something was up and he eventually let you escape."

Let me escape, did he? More like I just got away from him. I narrow my eyes at myself, furious that I'm still paying enough attention to care about how he tells things.

"I know the rest, grandpa," I sneer. "Shut up and let me go already, before I run out of patience and kill you where you stand."

He chuckles. "Empty threats aside, you're not going anywhere until I'm done with you," he says.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry for the awkward stop… it's actually the least awkward one I could come up with unless I doubled the chapter, and if I did that, my buffer would be too small for comfort.

Story related notes:

1) The Arashikage mindset eventually kind of becomes the all purpose trance in the comics. I based my interpretation on the time where Storm Shadow helps Snake Eyes achieve it and when, as a result, Snake Eyes becomes completely focused on his mission, forgetting about Scarlett – who is thought to be dying - completely. It is implied that he would not have been able to get into the mindset by himself and that he will need assistance again to get out of it. In later comics (beyond the Marvel run IIRC), the Arashikage mindset can be achieved by one's self and the Arashikage ninja do it routinely as an exercise, with no ill effects. Nowhere near as fun a concept, in my humble opinion.

2) Way, way back, I wrote that you'd eventually find out what was going through Snake Eyes' head each time he met Storm Shadow. There you go, and I hope this is answering some questions.

Next time: a bit less talking (key words: a bit - you may have noticed I like writing dialogues) and more action!


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The Soft Master trudges on with his story, and he continues to prevent me from moving him away from the door or hurting him with very little apparent effort.

"You slipped some kind of locating device on him. He found it but brought it along when he came to see me to give me the latest developments, expecting that if he hung around away from his base long enough, you'd show up to talk. He told me he thought Cobra had erased your memories to manipulate you, and he felt they would have had no reason to do that if you were working for them willingly. He saw it as a confirmation of the impression he had when you escaped custody. I felt you were most likely playing mind games with him."

I know I shouldn't care what he says, but his accusing ME of playing mind games, when I'm having so much trouble resisting his attempts to flip my own mind, completely enrages me. I scream at him and ignoring the fact it didn't work earlier, completely abandon my guard and attack him furiously.

He swipes my legs. I fall on my hands and try to kick him back. He grabs my ankle, swings me around and throws me into a wall. I bounce back on my feet and adopt a defensive stance, mentally calling myself an idiot: I'm making the exact same mistakes I was warning Billy against just yesterday.

I need to calm down and think this through. Getting angry is getting me nowhere; I need to go back to my strategy to tire him out. That would be easier if I wasn't both hungry and tired myself. He starts talking again, looking perfectly calm. His pulse is a bit higher than it was earlier, and his breathing is a bit shallow, but all in all, he's nowhere near done yet. I'm fairly fresh too, physically, but mentally, I'm running out of time.

The implanted memories are multiplying as we fight and as he talks, and thanks to his talking about things I remember, what I've been fearing for three years is happening: I'm having trouble sorting my true recollections from the fake ones sent by the Order.

I'm thankfully not yet at the point that I believe any of the more fanciful tales the Order has been spinning, but I honestly can't tell whether any of the flashes I'm getting about my childhood are real or not. I know I didn't remember anything when I first woke up, but I'm no longer comfortably certain they're not real memories surfacing. I want to be certain, because logically, I can't risk falling for the Order's tricks, but my head can't quite convince my heart anymore.

And he's still talking.

"I had to laugh at him when he came back a little while later. He had run into you, and insisted you tried to get away from the civilians by yourself. He told me how you ended up fighting on top of a moving commuter train, and how you seemed genuinely convinced some kind of World Order had killed your whole clan, and how you had concluded that his being alive and fighting for GI Joe had to mean he was brainwashed. He finished by telling me he made you jump after him between two wagons just before you found yourself splattered against the entrance of a tunnel. That's the part that made me laugh – I pointed out to him that you would have recognized the sound of the air going through the tunnel and that, therefore, you knew perfectly well it was coming and how close it was."

My eyes widen a bit. I suppose my uncle WOULD realize that, but if he's not actually related to me, or even if he is but with all his real memories erased, how could he realize I'd have heard the tunnel coming when Snake Eyes had no idea? It takes me a second to finally guess that Snake Eyes did realize it and was playing me as much as I was playing him.

I gulp and unsheathe my short sword. This is becoming ridiculous… he's still a long way from being too tired to resist my attempts at dislodging him or killing him, and I'm literally losing my mind a bit more with every word he says.

"He turned the joke on me and argued that your testing him and then calling a truce and letting him run away was another sign that you weren't as bad as I thought. He managed to convince me to investigate into the matter with an open mind, although I still thought I'd only end up confirming you were beyond redemption and just playing some kind of cruel game with him."

Just like when he first implied that my brother no longer thought me a traitor and a murderer, I feel a mixture of relief and gratitude wash over me at the thought the Soft Master is actually opening his mind too.

The feeling is the last sign I needed to confirm that I am doomed: I can't fend off this assault against my mind. I should never have waited this long before turning myself back in to Mindbender, I should have put Billy on a plane to Australia or somewhere equally removed from the sight of both Cobra and GI Joe and went straight back to the fortress…

Instead of trying to help him reunite with his father, instead of trying to fix everything… all I've accomplished is condemn us both. I won't be able to rescue him now, I won't avenge my family, I won't free Snake Eyes. My options have been reduced to becoming a slave as well, to finally give the Order what they've been after and spend the rest of my life doing their bidding, or to make myself unavailable to them permanently. Option one means the Order ends up with all of us at their disposal, option two means they have at least one less ninja serving them.

The man is still talking, but I'm finally able to ignore him. I trust my sword towards my own throat.

It never reaches. Next thing I know, the weapon is out of my hand and I'm pinned under him. I scream and desperately try to shove him off, to no avail. He's got me immobilized.

"As I was saying," he continues, "your brother was already convinced you were under Cobra's mind control and that led him to conclude you had only ever served them reluctantly. When you helped him against one of your fellow Cobra, you cemented his resolve to get you back to your own self and find out why you had EVER been with Cobra. He expected to find out Cobra could deliver to you the person who would have framed you for the murder of my brother. He gave you a note he had prepared, but you ripped it to shreds before reading it all and he ended up having to seize the first opening you gave him to incapacitate you. He feared if he let you walk away in better shape than he was himself, your next encounter with GI Joe could lead to a lot of casualties. His radio cut in at this point to tell him you had killed a group of rookies, but you took advantage of his momentary distraction to escape. Your brother was now facing a dilemma: he thought you were a victim, but he couldn't let you be a danger to his team mates."

I automatically think that my brother's first loyalty had always been with the American Army, not with the clan, as evidenced by his intention to leave and his refusal to earn wages – I suddenly know that refusal was due to the fact that he couldn't, as a soldier, be a mercenary for hire. Worse yet, I 'remember' never having figured this out before. I immediately label it all as false, but the fact it came to mind so easily, so naturally, terrifies me.

I scream and concentrate every ounce of will and strength I have into pushing him off me. He stays put with no more apparent effort than if I were a child. I'm completely powerless.

" _I must thank you again for this opportunity, Commander," Mindbender says._

_My heart starts hammering. I do NOT like the sound of this. I try to force myself to calm down, but without even being able to control my breathing, it's no easy task. It becomes altogether impossible as he continues._

" _The results you want will require wiping his memory practically clear, and then rebuilding. Such a complete change will make it easy to tell how well the treatments are working. And if what you told me about his powers of retention is true…" the doctor trails off, sounding blissful._

_I try moving again. I concentrate every ounce of will and strength I have in an effort to just clench my fist. As far as I can tell, nothing happens._

_This can't be happening._

My eyes widen. It's not true, it can't be… Cobra RESCUED me. The Order…

"Please, Tommy," the Soft Master says, interrupting my train of thoughts. His voice is soft, almost cajoling. "Think back. I know you remember, I know that's why you're so afraid right now."

"No…" I moan weakly. "You're handing me over to them... how can you…?"

I groan as I remember too late he's not who my memories make him out to be and doesn't actually have any reason NOT to do this to me. Just as I realize as much, another memory washes over me. I see myself and both my uncles in an office, arguing. I'm upset because they made me work for a mass murderer, the head of a terrorist organization called Cobra.

My eyes narrow, as much at myself for being unable to control my own mind as at him for taking advantage of it. If only he wasn't also preventing me from controlling my body and killing myself… My eyes widen again as it suddenly dawns on me that the technique I know as the Sleeping Phoenix can put me back in control if I simply overdo it. He's got me pinned down so well that I can't move my limbs, but he can't prevent me from slowing down my pulse just a bit too much.

I immediately close my eyes to concentrate and to enter into the trance. He starts pinching and hitting my pressure points as he talks, and between the pain and my growing panic, I never get anywhere near the amount of concentration I need. Through it all, he continues to talk.

"Your brother has been trying to jog your memory ever since. A few weeks ago, he found out from you that his efforts were working better than he knew, but also that you thought these memories were false and that you had apparently been getting rid of them methodically. On that day, you explained to him that you had finally decided the only way to free him was to kill him. You actually tried, but you lost your nerve when you drew blood. This is what finally convinced me: that scenario made no sense unless you really were under mind control, and more importantly, it established what should have been obvious all along: you're incapable of hurting one of us."

I whimper. Again, I feel practically elated at the thought of someone figuring out I was innocent, a feeling spurred by the Order's fictions.

"You didn't kill the Hard Master. I'm sure of it. I should have known right from the start…" he trails off briefly. "Knowing that, my guess is the same as your brother's: Cobra knew who did and sold you the information in exchange for so many years of services, payment to be made at the end of the contract. But when you found out, they brainwashed you to prevent you from killing whoever it was and quite possibly the Commander, too. So, Tommy, who did it?"

The question sends my heart into overdrive because the answer presents itself automatically, and as much as I try, I can't make myself not believe it. It's not even a memory, it's just something I suddenly know, and I know it with just as much certainty as I know the sky is blue.

"Zartan," I breathe.

My vision blurs and after a moment, I realize the screams I'm hearing are from me.

I expect my mind to suddenly go blank, or to suddenly forget everything I know about the Order. Now that my mind has been cracked open, I expect it will basically collapse quickly and neatly. The selfish part of me horribly reflects that at least, things will be easier and I'll be happier being a brainless slave.

Instead of a quick collapse, however, what I feel is closer to a slow trickle that gradually intensifies into a torrent. Memories, facts and feelings all force their way into my brains and my convictions only change slowly.

By the time I'm finally convinced that no organization, no matter how powerful and inventive, could make all this up and download it straight to my brains; by the time I realize that everything I thought the Order tried to do, Cobra did and then some; by the time I finally stop fighting the memories as an intrusion and realize I'm actually healing, I find my screams have subsided into whimpers and I'm huddled in a shaking ball, feeling, above anything else, completely exhausted.

I lift my head – the motion makes it hurt enough to make me nauseous - and look up wearily. I'm still remembering random things, and although it's no longer frightening or even confusing, it's distracting and I think it's making my headache worse.

The Soft Master is sitting a few feet from me, looking at me. I look right back down because I can't deal with him right now. I don't know what to say, I don't even know what to feel. I want to punch him and hug him all at once.

"Smart young apprentice, you've found," he says.

Settling into a safe subject… I suppose that works. I nod but I can't think of anything to say in reply.

"He was wandering the neighbourhood, hoping to run into Snake Eyes or to find why Snake Eyes might be here every now and then, when he spotted the bottom third of my tattoo. He walked right up to me and asked me if my name was Arashikage."

I try to think of something to answer, but nothing comes. My thoughts are on the night he sentenced me to death, and on the fact I've probably earned the sentence fifty times over since.

"I brought him inside and we had a little chat. I called Snake Eyes when I found out who he was, and convinced them to let me confront you." He pauses for a moment. "Talk, Tommy. Don't make me talk about the weather, next."

"I…" I start, then stop again. It's not that there's nothing on my mind, but I don't know where to start.

"There's a dream I kept having," I finally mutter. "In it, my brother brought me to you, and you injected me with some kind of truth serum, and eventually believed I was innocent."

"I don't think you would have been able to change my mind," he states. "Your brother let you go because he was convinced bringing you in would only guarantee you a painful death. I wish I could say he was wrong, but honestly… he probably wasn't."

"I don't know what I'll do after I've killed Zartan and the Commander. I've considered turning myself in to you and letting you kill me without telling you I had been framed, just to speed things up."

The thought of killing the two of them triggers the memory of trying, right after finding out Zartan was my uncle's murderer. I shudder as I remember the pain and how it was nothing in comparison to what happened when I came to, completely paralyzed and powerless.

My eyes suddenly widen in realization. The chip. The chip is still in my head, they probably know I'm back to myself. I spring to my feet.

The Soft Master looks at me quizzically as I peel my ears for anything coming towards us. I feel the blood drain from my face when I notice a whole bunch of Cobra helicopters headed this way. I curse loudly about hissing men who won't give up.

"Tommy?" the Soft Master asks. "What is it?"

"Cobra is coming, they know I remember, and they know where I am. They were probably able to locate the chip when it transmitted its warning." I do a quick count. "Fifteen helicopters, ten one-seaters, five two-seaters. We're not going to be able to fight them off," I say, starting to panic as I suddenly realize the extent of the problem.

"Follow me. We need to get them away from this neighbourhood," he says, shooting out of the trapdoor before I can stop him.

"Never mind the neighbourhood!" I shout, following. "We can't beat them and they can find us wherever we go!"

I catch up to him and grab his shoulders to spin him around.

"I'm sorry," I say urgently, trying to get out everything I need to say in as few seconds as possible. "I'm sorry for everything. I should have saved him, I heard the arrow and just shook my head because I thought it was that stupid whistling again. I should have stayed with him when he was dying instead of running off after the murderer. I'm sorry for pretty much everything since then. I can't let them catch me again, I can't…"

"Tomisaburo… shut up already," he interrupts me. "I am NOT letting you kill yourself. For crying out loud, I stopped you twice already, I can do it a few more times. We're going to get as much in the open as we can so they don't start blowing things up to get at us, fight them off, and then go to the Pit."

"We can't beat them!" I cry out. "I'm exhausted, and I can tell YOU're tired too! We can't defeat 15 armed helicopters AND whatever reinforcements they're going to call if we somehow manage to give them the least bit of trouble!"

He scowls at me, forcibly reminding me of the Hard Master and making me realize he hasn't smiled much since I got back to the tower.

"You have a better idea that does NOT involve your dying?" As he talks, he grabs my arm and starts running again, forcing me to follow. He's going extremely slowly by our usual standards, yet I still find myself struggling to follow.

"I'm better off dead than in the hands of Cobra again!" I protest.

The helicopters are approaching fast, and desperation forces me into full disclosure.

"UNCLE, PLEASE!" I scream at him. "I don't' want to be responsible for YOUR death, too!"

He only slows down for the space of two steps before shaking his head and accelerating again. I try to pry his hand off mine but I don't dare dig in my heels and slow him down even more. We manage to get to ground level before the helicopters catch up to us, and between our screaming and the Cobra helicopters approaching, most of the civilians get the hint and clear out the area in record time.

We position ourselves back to back instinctively, but the helicopters do the obvious and start shooting us, forcing us apart to avoid the shots. I take out my bow and shoot at the pilot of the nearest one, putting as much strength as I can into the shot, which isn't saying much right now. Thankfully, my arrow still reaches and embeds itself in his throat. He crumbles lifelessly and, no longer being controlled, the one-seater starts flying erratically. The others manage to avoid it and shoot its engine, causing it to plummet towards the ground.

Meanwhile, I've attached an explosive to my next arrow and I shoot it at the engine of a two-seaters. The helicopter blows up quite nicely and what's left of it goes down in a hail of fire.

I listen for the Soft Master and my eyes widen: I can't hear him. I look around frantically, desperately telling myself that he's fine and that I can't hear him simply because the helicopters are making too much noise. I finally spot him and blink before I grin: he's just swung inside a one-seater, kicking the pilot out. I have no idea how he got so high and I don't have the luxury to try and figure it out. I dodge some more missiles from the helicopters and shoot towards another one-seater pilot. I can't put enough strength in my shot and my arrow bounces limply on his armor. I curse out loud – my arms have no strength left and I can't think of another attack strategy. I dive sideways to avoid the next round of fire directed at me and I start looking around for a way to get higher without exposing myself as an easy target.

I find none, but I hear one of the one-seaters coming shakily at me. I take my sword out, ready to slice the pilot in half as a reward for his stupidity – diving right for me when he's obviously not even a good pilot, honestly! - but I sheath it right back when I realize the clumsy pilot is the Soft Master, trying to give me the ride up I needed. I jump on, hanging on to the side of the cockpit.

"How did you…?" I start.

He snorts. "You really ARE tired; too tired to think, obviously. I climbed up one of the buildings. Now shoot." He adds, throwing me a rope.

I use the rope to tie myself up to the handle I was gripping and take out my bow again, attaching as before an explosive to my arrow.

"And where did you learn to fly?" I ask, shooting at one of the helicopters and blowing up its engine.

"I knew I was getting tangled with Cobra and GI Joe, and I knew they use a lot of flying vehicles, so I had Snake Eyes sneak me into a few simulators over the past few months, just in case it might come in handy."

I take down one more helicopter before Cobra finally manages to hit us. The engine goes up in flames and we're both forced to jump for it before it explodes – I'm a second slower than the Soft Master because I have to cut the rope I'm tied with, so I see him land and although he rolls, he stays down.

I roll too and grunt in pain. That was too high, too fast: I broke one of my arms and I think my back is injured, too. I get up and use my good arm to help the Soft Master up: he leans on me, avoiding his left leg – I can guess it's broken.

As soon as he's up, he turns my head around towards him and launches into the hypnotic sequence necessary to put us both in the Arashikage mindset – I swallow and follow suit. With nobody around to get us back to sanity, he wouldn't be doing this if he expected to survive the battle; he's decided we were going to do as much damage as possible before going down. The parallel between this and what I've spent over three years believing to be my only real memory is unnerving, but I stop caring almost as soon as the thought forms: the mindset is taking hold and pushing every thought, every sensation away, except for the single objective that will become the only thing to matter to me until I die or the trance is broken. The pain from my injuries dim with each syllable we utter, and by the time I realize that I'm only assisting and won't get a say in what he defines the objective to be, I don't care at all.

I nod when he tells me that the objective is for me to survive the fight and then get out of the mindset. I realize I wouldn't be happy about this if I had all my senses, but even the knowledge that I'd normally object makes no impression on my resolve. I have my mission, I WILL fulfill it.

Our best chance of survival is to take down all the enemies, so that's the first thing we try to do. We face the helicopters again and we both scale the closest buildings to climb up to them and kick the pilots out before they have the slightest chance to react. I don't feel tired at all anymore – in fact, I've never felt better. I'm still aware of my injuries, but only in the sense that I know I can't rely on my broken arm as much as usual and that I need to avoid twisting my back if I can help it. Similarly, the Soft Master scaled the wall using mostly his arms and his right leg, only using his broken left leg for the occasional balancing.

We turn our newly acquired helicopters against the others and we're honestly doing well, being down to only two opponents, when reinforcements show up. I can hear fighter jets approaching, missiles start shooting from the ground, and a glance reveals Zartan and about twenty dreadnocks and various cobra agents have arrived. At the same time, the chip in my head activates.

I don't actually feel the pain beyond being aware that it's there, but it's affecting my senses – I'm blinded by imaginary light, my ears are filled with a low humming sound that blocks most everything else, and I'm dizzy, making what little I can see of the World spin madly.

I still somehow manage to dodge the ground-air missiles and the Soft Master does as well, presumably with more ease than me despite his inferior flying skills. However, the last two enemy helicopters manage to damage our own enough that we have to crash land and suddenly, we're on the ground, without working vehicles, with fighter jets seconds away from being in range to shoot us, dreadnocks aiming at us and grinning like maniacs, and helicopters still firing at us. And I can't see or hear properly, and standing up is a challenge.

We charge for the dreadnocks. I'm keeping my eyes fixed on them and letting my legs run automatically without attempting to guess where the ground actually is, intent on stealing their ground-to-air missile launchers. They're obviously shocked when they see us coming towards them rather than running away, but they recover quickly enough to aim their hand weapons at us.

I again let my body do the work and ignore the fact I don't really know which way is down, and successfully dodge everything they throw at us. I don't know whether the Soft Master will make it: between his size and his broken leg reducing his mobility, he's an easier target than I am. My survival chances are much lower without my only ally, but at the same time, I can't risk trying to assist him. The objective is for me to survive, not him.

I'm on top of the dreadnocks and I've slit one's throat already when I ear a missile launching from one of the small ground-to-air launcher tower. I'm surrounded with nowhere to dive, and knowing that the dreadnocks closest to me will most likely be killed when the missile impacts me and explodes is very small comfort. I briefly consider using one of the bikers as a shield, but I can't grab one and throw him towards the missile fast enough for the explosion to occur more than a step away from me: I still wouldn't survive it.

I try jumping, already knowing I can't get high enough in time to avoid it but hoping to survive a lower body injury. I can't fail my mission, I HAVE to survive.

The Missile doesn't reach me. Seemingly out of nowhere, the Soft Master jumps in front of me and pushes me as far back as I can go. The missile impacts him and explodes, taking him with it and violently pushing me into the dreadnocks behind me, who are thrown backwards as well. Thanks to the mindset, I only feel the slightest regret at my uncle's death, and mostly because it reduces my chances of succeeding in my mission. I do, however, faintly realize that once I'm out of the mindset, I'm likely to lose it completely – he died trying to save me, and therefore, because of me. The knowledge, right now, has about as much emotional weight as my knowing what colour underwear I'm wearing.

I scramble back up, singed but mostly unharmed, and take advantage of the dreadnocks' confusion to take out four more of them. I don't reach the missile launcher before the fighter jets get in range, however.

I hate laser weapons. Thanks to light being faster than sound, I feel the searing pain in my lower back before I hear the gun firing and suddenly, I can't feel or control my legs anymore. I take out my bow while I'm falling and aim at the sky, but the fighter jets are still well out of my reach. A new shot burns a deep hole through my right shoulder and my arm stops responding properly.

"Surrender, Storm Shadow. You can't win this battle," Zartan's voice calls out.

He's right and we both know it. I can't fight back against fighter jets that my arrows can't reach when neither my eyes nor my ears are working properly, my balance is off and none of my limbs are anywhere near fully functional. Even if I somehow managed to get close to the missile launcher, the fighter jet could simply blow it up to take me out.

More importantly, the objective was to survive, not to win, and I'm much more likely to succeed in that if I surrender then if I try to continue fighting in my current state. This makes my next move an obvious choice.

"I surrender," I say, depositing my bow and arrow and lifting my hands above my head.

Zartan's eyes widen in shock. I can't say I blame him - if it were my choice, I WOULD rather die than fall under Cobra's hands again. The choice, however, is not mine: I have to survive this fight, I have to fulfill the mission given to me.

Zartan looks at me for a second, trying to read my intentions, and throws a tranquilizer dart at me. I catch it with my left arm, aggravating my fracture.

"Stab yourself in the neck with this, and I'll accept your surrender," Zartan states.

I don't hesitate – once my surrender is accepted, I know I won't be killed: the Commander will want me in his service again to at the very least continue to counter my brother. Therefore, this one gesture completes my mission.

I stab myself in the side of my neck with the tranquilizer dart, causing the liquid inside to release into my bloodstream. The first part of my mission being completed, the mindset dissolves to satisfy the second objective I was given.

The impersonal information that my head is on fire automatically becomes genuine pain. At the same time, the knowledge I will become Cobra's puppet again rips my heart to pieces and the fact that the Soft Master died trying to save me vaporizes what's left. I hear myself scream just before all the sounds around me fade into nothingness.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I'm sorry. I'm SO sorry.

(hides)


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

I can feel my legs again when I wake up, and unlike the last time that accursed chip knocked me out, I can feel everything else as well – including my broken arm, pierced shoulder and injured back. All my senses also appear to be working, but I can't move a muscle, and attempting to consciously control my breathing or pulse fails as well.

In other words, I'm just as powerless as last time but with a better seat, so to speak. My heart starts hammering. I need to calm down, and since I have no control on my breathing, that means I need to think of something else than my current situation, even if only briefly.

My thoughts obediently leave the present moment, but choose to go back to the night's battle and to my uncle, which of course does not help at all. Tears immediately start rolling down my cheeks and worst yet, I'm starting to think that screaming in anguish would feel rather good right now and that it really doesn't matter if I do.

I can't be doing this, I can't lose it. I don't know whether I can escape – and it doesn't seem likely – but I have to try. I have no time to waste right now; grieving is going to have to wait. Since I can't control my body at the moment, I need to at least control my thoughts and emotions.

Even as I think it, I can't stop going back to the fact my uncle, the last blood relative I had left, my last surviving parental figure and the one I was counting on to tell me how to redeem myself, is gone and is gone because of me, because he saved me, because he gave his life for me, even if it meant that I'd do more harm. He chose to make sure I'd live regardless of what I've done and what I might do in the future… I've never really counted on anybody forgiving me my time in Cobra, especially that completely. I feel tears on my cheeks again and squeeze my eyes shut.

Stupid mindset… I let him get himself killed and I surrendered to becoming Cobra's slave again, all because the Soft Master defined the mission to ensure my survival. He also managed to define a second objective to ensure the mindset would dissolve, something that, as far as I know, is unheard of… but the point is, he defined the mission. I'm here because of him. Although I know it's unfair, I seize the flare of anger I feel at the thought and gnaw on it.

He had no right to do that: he KNEW I'd rather die! I'm going to be Cobra's slave again, for who knows how long – in all likelihood until my death – and it's because of him! And this time, he won't even be around to save me again, so I'm worse off than ever. And the clan! He left the clan without a leader, there's nobody now that can perform the sealing ceremony on the Amaterasu – the Arashikage is gone, he betrayed us. Whether or not anybody chooses to remain at the compound means nothing: without our blood leading, the clan's purpose is lost, we've finally stopped following the will of our founder. And as long as Cobra holds on to me, things will remain that way. Cobra… they tried to kill my brother, killed the Hard Master, enslaved me and turned me into a monster, and finally, killed the Soft Master and by doing so, destroyed the clan. I gladly concentrate my thoughts on everything Cobra has done to me and my family rather than on the Soft Master: the result on my emotional state is the same, and Cobra is a much more deserving target for my anger.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door opening, but I'm back in control – no chance of getting emotional again, I'm too furious. It's hardly a calm and reflective state, but it's one I'm used to, one I can handle, and it sure beats crying like a baby.

Zartan enters the room and stiffens at my expression before I even start talking.

"You," I growl. "You will BEG for death. I will start by switching your hands and your feet around, then I'll…"

He tries to interrupt me. "I gathered what I could of the Soft Master's…"

"I hold YOU responsible for HIS death, as well," I snarl.

"I didn't fire that missile," he protests, "and like I was saying…"

"Tell me who did, then. Tell me who killed him and I'll make YOUR death just a bit quicker."

He gulps but clenches his jaw and finishes what he wanted to say, ignoring my demand. "I gathered his remains and sent the ashes to Snake Eyes."

I bark a laugh. "You think this puts me in your debt, do you? Like when you came to see me in the gym with your pathetic attempt at jogging my memory so I would owe you my sanity… IDIOT!"

"No, I…"

"There's NOTHING you can do that will save you from me! If you somehow managed to make it so I owed you my life or more, I may have to kill myself right after I dispose of you, but I would still END YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!"

He winces. "My only target was Snake Eyes," he ploughs on. "And I even tried to get out of…"

"I DON'T CARE!" I interrupt him. "The name, Zartan. Give me a single target, or they will ALL die! Every last one of them! And I'll use their ridiculous weapons of choice to do it, and I swear to you, I WILL make it last as long as I can for each and EVERY ONE OF THEM! INCLUDING YOUR SIBLINGS! AND THAT DAUGHTER OF YOURS!"

He turns white. I wish I could at least take comfort in the fact he certainly doesn't seem to think I will remain under Cobra's control forever, but I can't: I think so little of his judgment that if anything, I'm more pessimistic than ever about my chances of ever being free again.

"Scrap Iron," he finally growls. "And he's not a dreadnock. That idiot… the Commander demanded you be taken alive, and he goes and tries to blow you up."

He leaves then, after one last glare at me, which I answer with a snarl. It occurs to me after he's left that not only did we have that fight without being interrupted, he even had time to gather my uncle's remains… I wonder briefly why GI Joe or even just the regular army didn't interfere while Cobra was attacking in the middle of New York, but I quickly guess the Commander somehow arranged it that way and I decide I don't really care to know how.

* * *

I'm left alone for a while, and I continue to deliberately make myself angrier and angrier – the adrenaline might help me break out, and if not, I at least feel more in control. The thought occurs to me at one point that at least, Billy was left with Snake Eyes and is therefore safe, but I quickly make myself ignore it to avoid calming down, even if only slightly.

I've got myself worked up into a frenzy by the time the Commander comes in with Mindbender, and I start screaming at them right away.

"Silence him," the Commander hisses.

Mindbender moves behind me and types something on a keyboard. I'm yelling insults at him, vaguely aware that I'm just wasting my energy and that making myself furious might not have cleared my head all that much after all.

My voice suddenly dies. I try screaming louder, but no sound comes out of my throat at all, unless you count my exhaling.

"I've perfected my control methods," Mindbender explains, standing beside me and smiling. "I can decide, for each individual muscle, whether you are in control or not. I can even shut down individual nerve endings while leaving the others around it active."

The Commander walks up to me and crosses his arms.

"You ought to be flattered, Storm Shadow. Recovering you was a major operation, parts of which were put in place as soon as you left. I was tempted several times to just go get you in that water tower, but it seemed preferable to avoid a fight if at all possible, and I really didn't want to reveal to you that I had something in your head to control and locate you… not as long as you still believed in the righteous Cobra Commander, fighting the evil Order."

He cackles at that. I glare at him. It's bad enough he's got me muted, is the monologue really necessary? I suspect he's doing it precisely to annoy me.

"I had been planning another major strike, so I tweaked it around you. See how much I care about my dear ninja? I positioned my troops to be ready to strike at my chosen targets when you left with my son, and once you settled in your little hideout, I positioned some more in a large circle around you, seven blocks away on average."

My eyes widen a bit: that would have taken a lot of troops. I can't help feeling indeed a bit flattered.

"When your chip signaled that you were starting to wonder whether any of the memories that were resurfacing were real, I gave the signal for our major strike to start. The chip was set to react to the slightest doubt from you, so I knew I still had a bit of time before you fully came back to yourself – time I used to get GI Joe and therefore, Snake Eyes, away from you. By the time our fight started over an hour later, half of them were en route to Washington DC, the other half to San Francisco. What few were left at the Pit when the attack in New York was reported could hardly face us, and the Joes going to the other sites could not be recalled because the attacks over there were in a larger scale, so as I knew would be the case, the regular army was sent instead. The troops I had around you were able to hold them off quite easily."

I glare at him some more, almost glad I can't talk and give him the satisfaction of asking him what they've done in Washington and San Francisco. He cocks his head.

"You're wondering what we did in those other attacks, aren't you? Not much, really: GI Joe saw to that. Still enough to make the name of Cobra more feared than ever. I believe the combined toll was about 1000 people and several government offices."

He starts laughing. He's not doing this to annoy me after all – he's just gloating to a captive audience. I roll my eyes at him to express that I am completely unimpressed. The lie - I'm not oblivious enough to not realize this whole operation was yet another impressive display of planning and strategy on his part - has the exact effect I was hoping for: he abruptly stops laughing and scowls at me.

"Since you have to re-do him completely anyway, Doctor, I want some changes."

I open my mouth to oh-so-wittily offer to re-do HIM, but I still can't talk. That would be irritating enough without the fact it's also making me feel powerless, despite the rage-induced adrenalin I've so carefully built up. The last thing I need is to get any kind of emotional right now. I need to concentrate on escaping.

"To be honest, Commander…" Mindbender starts.

"I'm not killing him," the Commander interrupts. "Snake Eyes would be out for blood and I wouldn't have anyone to stand in his way."

"Very well," Mindbender concedes. "But I must warn you that whatever I do will be much more difficult to maintain, now that he's broken through the programming once."

"Speaking of which," the Commander hisses threateningly, "why didn't you set the safety to activate automatically, Mindbender?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mindbender replies in a very annoyed tone, "If I set it to react to a particular belief, say that Cobra is evil, it would just stay activated as long as the belief is there, even after he loses consciousness; his heart would fail within minutes. If you want him alive, I have to incorporate into the trigger something that will no longer be true once he's unconscious, like an actual action."

"The treatments you do take hours and he survives THOSE. And what about three nights ago?" the Commander argues.

My eyebrows shoot up. Three nights ago? I was out for three days?

"The MACHINE keeps him alive during treatments, Commander. As for that battle, seeing he was also still conscious, I'm guessing the hypnotic state they put themselves under blocked the pain."

The Commander's eyes narrow briefly before he shrugs.

"As I was saying, I've grown to find keeping up the lies inconvenient," he says, as though the last part of the conversation had never happened. "Constantly making sure new troops have their instructions regarding him is time consuming, and because I can't speak freely when he's around, I can hardly ever use him as a bodyguard. I want him to be completely devoted to me without having to keep up this kind of charade."

Mindbender wisely follows his lead and doesn't press the issue of the safety switch further either.

"You do realize, Commander, that this would be more along the lines of complete conditioning than memory manipulation?"

"Yes," the Commander hisses. "I want him more loyal than a dog, Mindbender. As long as his fighting abilities are still intact, I don't care whether he can still even read or add two and two! I want him to think I'm his Lord and Master, and I want him to have no sense of right or wrong beyond serving me. AND when I tell him to kill Snake Eyes, I want his only reaction to be asking me how slowly!"

My eyes widen. I need to get out of here. This is going to be even worse than before… I struggle to move, to no avail. Much like last time this happened, I feel panic settling in. I try to concentrate on the fact that I'm furious, but my thoughts keep slipping back into what's happening now instead of obediently staying on the past.

I suddenly get the idea that maybe I should use the panic to boost my adrenaline that much more, and maybe break free of the paralysis. I stop fighting it and let myself face the fact that this is very, very bad.

All I achieve is that I become more frantic in my complete lack of movement.

"Yes, Commander," Mindbender sighs.

He starts typing on his keyboard again. I try yelling at them again, to no avail: Mindbender has not restored my voice.

The pain is even worse than I remember. I have time to wonder whether it's because I blocked just how bad it was from my memory before it becomes impossible to think.

* * *

Master… I can hear him. He's here, right next to me.

Hold on… Was I asleep? Was I making him wait?

I hurriedly jump out of bed and kneel next to him, ignoring the pain that shoots up my back and dismissing the cast on my arm and the bandages tugging at my shoulder as unimportant.

"Master! I'm sorry you've been waiting! I don't know what happened, I…"

"You were defeated by Snake Eyes, AGAIN, three days ago," he cuts me off. "And you went and got yourself injured, too."

My eyes widen. Defeated? But then… "I failed you?" I breathe, horrified. I don't even remember my mission. "Master, I…"

"You've disappointed me, Storm Shadow," he cuts me off. "You've hurt me. Never do this to me again!"

His words cut through my very soul – I've never felt so low, so miserable, so useless. This is Snake Eyes' fault, as usual. I hate the man so much that although I'd love to kill him, slowly, it almost seems like death would still be too kind for him. Almost.

"I'm sorry," I say through the lump in my throat. I swallow in an effort to bring my voice back to normal, with moderate success. "I will be better."

"I certainly hope so! For starters, I want you to recover as fast as possible," he hisses, opening the door behind him as he speaks. A doctor walks in, eyeing me warily.

"This is your doctor;" the Commander says, "remember him."

I nod, staring at and listening to the man in an effort to commit him to memory, something that is always a challenge for me.

"You will follow his instructions for your treatment to the letter," the Commander adds.

"Yes, Master."

"I will personally remind you of this every morning. I do not want your doctor to tell me you stopped listening to him at some point during the day. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"I want you back to being useful as quickly as possible. Listen to your doctor, or I will be VERY angry."

"Yes Master," I say again, deepening my bow.

The Commander nods and leaves the room. The doctor stays behind, still watching me worriedly.

"Let… Let's start by seeing how you're doing," he stutters. "How… how's your left arm?"

"It feels broken."

"Yes, err… it is."

"Can't you fix it?"

"I… I've set it. The bone… the bone needs to… to fix itself."

I scowl at him. That makes no sense: he's a doctor, it's his job to fix injuries. He cowers and whimpers, backing up against the wall.

"You… the Commander… the Commander said to listen to me, remember?"

I frown: I do remember that.

"So tell me what to do to get better," I growl.

"I… err… answer my questions. That's the first step."

I nod and he starts asking questions about my shoulder and my back. He eventually gives me a bunch of ridiculously light exercises to do and leaves.

* * *

I spend the rest of the day trying to concentrate on my exercises, but I can't. I keep going back to how I failed my Master, how disappointed he was, and how I can't even remember what happened. I finally drag myself to bed feeling even worse than I did earlier.

The Commander, as promised, reminds me to do whatever my doctor says the following morning, and the morning after that. He's still furious with me, but not nearly as much as I am with myself.

* * *

I wake up gasping, out of breath. I sit up in my bed, holding my head in my hands. It's throbbing. It feels like two very angry people arguing inside my head... I think one of them is me, or maybe both, I don't know. I don't understand, it's too confusing...

Memories are trying to impose themselves to me, and I don't think they're mine, thus the part of me fighting them.

I see a jungle, a helicopter, a house... a man smiles at me and then vanishes, replaced by some old guy scowling. I know these people, I think. Or maybe I don't, I'm not sure.

Another man. He looks concerned. I know him, I'm sure I know him. But I don't remember anything about him, how can that be? He's talking to me and fighting me at the same time.

Then, suddenly, I'm surrounded by people trying to kill me and the same man explodes right in front of me. The memory ends there, and I'm back in my room, shivering. Was that my own memory? How could it be? I don't even know who that man was, why do I feel devastated by his death?

I shake my head, trying to make the memories go away. I don't understand… Why am I imagining these things? I don't remember any of this, I've served my master for as long as I can remember. There's nothing else: nobody else than the Commander matters enough for me to care whether they live or die, except Snake Eyes – him, I would definitely rather see dead.

_No. He's your brother and your best friend. It's the other way around. The Commander is your enemy._

I shiver violently and my eyes widen. The voice was only in my head, and it was mine. That filth originated from me… What is wrong with me? I feel downright soiled by the disturbing thought: how can I be such a monster as to think such a thing, even without meaning to, about my master?

_He's enslaved you. He's controlling you against your will. He must die._

Another shiver runs through me. I have to silence the voice, but I don't know how. I don't know who to ask for help, I'm afraid to go near the Commander and suddenly fall under the control of the voice.

_You're already being controlled. By HIM. Stay. Think._

"Shut up," I mutter, getting up.

I throw my robe on and get out of my bedroom. I'm still not sure who to go to – I rake my brains to try and remember someone the Commander would trust, but I can't. I hardly ever remember anyone, so it's not particularly surprising.

_You don't remember anyone because they didn't leave you two functioning brains cells to rub together._

"I'm not listening to you," I advise the voice.

I'm going to have to ask the first person I find where I should go. I pick up on the closest voices I can hear and head in that direction.

They lead me to the cafeteria. I go in and walk straight to the group of men chattering and laughing, playing cards. They stop and glare at me, obviously annoyed to be interrupted in their game.

"Private game, buster," one of them snarls.

"Nice uniform," another chuckles, referring to my robe.

I slam his head straight into the very solid table, breaking his skull and his neck, ignoring the flare of pain it causes in my shoulder. Very satisfyingly, he becomes completely quiet, down to his pulse.

The others yelp and jump away from the table, their hearts hammering.

"S…S… Storm… Storm Shadow?" one of them stutters.

I nod. I like these guys a lot better now that they are terrified of me.

"There's a voice in my head trying to turn me against the Commander," I say. "I need help to make it go away, but I don't know who to ask."

They blink uselessly at me. I growl, break a bottle of bear on the table and throw the stub into the neck of one of them. He gurgles for a second before crumbling, lifeless.

The others dash for the door, screaming.

_Kill them. The less Cobra the better. KILL THEM!_

I stop mid-stride. I do WANT to kill them, one-by-one until they help me, but I don't like that the voice wants the same thing.

"Just tell me who can help me!" I roar at them. "You useless…"

One of them pushes the alarm button on his way out and they all keep running, screaming at the top of their lungs. I stop screaming at them and cover my ears to block some of the noise. Why does that alarm need to be so LOUD?

It reminds me of being trapped in a kitchen with the Commander, and having to set off the fire alarm to get out. I remember being afraid I'd go deaf. But how? I never remember events this well. I can't even remember how Snake Eyes defeated me last time, only that my master told me he did.

_It was his fault you had to set off that alarm. He kept slowing you down, and he gave his position away in the first place to see you fight and kill some soldiers. You were furious with him, and you were furious that your uncles would make you work for trash like him._

I shake my head in an effort to dislodge the voice. I need to get away from that alarm; I don't want to go deaf, I wouldn't be able to serve my master as well if I did.

I leave the kitchen, but the alarm is just as loud in the hallway. I see the vipers a bit further down the hall, and run after them; until I locate someone else, they're still my best bet. I catch up to them easily and smash the first one I catch against the wall using both my arms because neither of them feels quite strong enough to hold a grown man's weight. He screams and starts kicking ineffectively, while the others keep running. I scowl at him. Because I'm using my hands to hold him, the alarm now hurts even more, and because he's heavy, my back is hurting, too.

"JUST TELL ME WHERE TO GO!" I demand, shouting over the alarm. "NOW!"

"M….Mindbdender?" he whimpers. I can just hear him. "He's the one that… err… helps you? Isn't he? Please don't kill me…"

The name doesn't ring a bell, but his guess is better than nothing.

"WHERE?"

He gulps and his pulse quickens. I curse under my breath: he doesn't know.

"I… I'll take you," he lies. "But you can't kill me."

I snarl at him and release him, punching through his chest with my left arm before his feet touch the floor. His ribs rip through his lungs and my fist goes through his heart: he doesn't make a sound and falls to the floor like a rag doll. I hiss in pain – it feels like I made my broken bone worse. I wipe my hand and my cast on his uniform before covering my ears again.

I look around desperately. I have no idea what to do next. I can't hear anyone over the alarm, and I can't find my way around the fortress by myself – I've never been able to and I have no reason to think I ever will. Strangely, despite the voice and the alarm, my thoughts seem to be getting clearer. I'm amazed I've figured out the viper was lying, for one thing.

_Their hold on you is weakening._

I snarl at the voice and start walking, hoping I'm heading back the way I came because if I can make it back to the cafeteria, whoever is sent to check on the alarm will find me there. I frown at myself – this is not normal, I don't think like this. Whatever is happening to me is changing me, and it's getting worst fast.

_Changing you BACK. Just remember. Remember he said he wanted a dog._

"Like that's a bad thing," I mutter.

I turn a corner and see, down the hall, a dozen of Crimson Guards, headed by two nearly identical men. A gesture by one of them stops the alarm. I hold back a sigh of relief.

"Storm Shadow,…" one of the men says.

"…we're going to take you to Mindbender," the other one finishes.

I walk the remaining distance between us, pick one and lock eyes with him.

"Will he help?"

"He's your head's caretaker," he replies.

The other one nods. They're both smiling encouragingly.

_Don't! Haven't you noticed they won't use the word 'help'?_

That settles it. If the voice doesn't want me to follow them, I'm following. I nod and fall in step behind them as they lead the way. Their guards keep their guns pointed at me until we reach a room lined with monitors and containing a frankly scary chair, with wires and restraints, and surrounded by shelves full of needles and little bottles. I stop and back up a step instinctively.

_You know this room. And even if you didn't, you can't pretend this looks good._

I can't help agreeing with the second statement. I turn to one of the twins. His name suddenly flares in my mind – Tomax, the one without the scar. The other's name follows almost instantly: Xamot. Why do I remember that? They're nothing: not my master, not my enemy, not myself... nothing.

"What is this place?" I demand.

"Mindbender's lab," Tomax answers casually. "We never pretended…"

"…that this would be pleasant," his brother finishes. "That being said,.."

Goodness, that's annoying. I give up moving my eyes from one to the other and focus my attention on Tomax, trying and failing to ignore the pauses and the switch in where the sound is coming from. I'd kill one right now if not for the fact I really need whatever information they can give me.

"…we're not so stupid as to…"

"…stand in your way if you'd rather leave."

They step aside, clearing the way for me to get away from the room.

"Of course," Tomax starts again.

"… this IS what you were looking for. As intimidating as his place is…" Xamot continues.

"… Mindbender WILL make all the confusion go away," Tomax finishes.

I detect no lie, yet I'm not reassured.

_He will make the confusion go away by stripping your brains clear again. No thoughts; no confusion._

"Is Mindbender the reason I can never remember anything?" I ask.

The voice cheers. The twins pale. My head explodes.

Or that's what it feels like, anyway. The pain is worse than I would have thought was even possible, but thankfully doesn't last long – it disappears just like everything else when I pass out.

* * *

As proof that anything can happen, it turns out the Crimson Twins did not lie: all the confusion did go away, and I'm in the room, strapped to the chair - uselessly since I am, once again, paralyzed.

Not counting the countless partial treatments I used to get to purge my memories, this is the third time. I'm keeping a count from now on, and both the Commander and Mindbender will be killed with exactly as many blows as whatever number I reach. If I have to do it by poking them with a pin in order for them to last long enough, I will: my memories of the past four days feel stranger than a dream, but they're clear enough to ensure them a slower death than they had already earned over the past three years – eleven in the case of the Commander.

I listen out, wondering how long I'll stay by myself. I can't hear anybody around or approaching. They're letting me simmer here, even now that I'm awake. I can't think of why at first – even if Cobra was in the middle of an operation, Mindbender would still be hiding away in the bowels of the fortress. I eventually guess that considering the amount of damage they're doing to my mind, they have to let it reset before going at it again if they want me to be functional at all – if you can call what I was functional.

Much like the last time I came back to myself, memories and feelings seem to keep trickling in with no end in sight – there are no huge gaps, but details just keep sharpening. It's extremely distracting, especially since right now, I'm being bombarded with very detailed images and sounds from the battle where my uncle died.

I want to scream and break everything in sight. He died so I'd live and all he's achieved is prolong my enslavement… I can't let that be. I need to break free, and since I can't do anything else, I need to think my way out. I'm alone, I have time, all I need is to focus on the present and ignore the past beyond what information it can give me.

There's a very good chance, make that a near certainty, that I will not escape this room before they brainwash me again. Therefore, before I even start trying, I need to figure out a contingency plan.

With the amount of emotional abuse he's given me, I'm guessing the Commander enjoyed himself quite a bit with me the last few days. I can therefore safely assume he's going to request the same result from Mindbender again. The question is, how do I sabotage it? I have no idea what triggered the collapse of the conditioning this time around, what made my memories start to surface. It may very well have been just time. If that's the case, it will probably keep happening. I just need to take advantage of it, ideally before I fully recover from my injuries so that I won't be of any use to Cobra.

I need to figure out a way to stay calm when those memories start emerging. I need to make it so they don't frighten or confuse me. Given that everything was confusing me while the conditioning was on, this could be a challenge.

I spend the next little while thinking hard on the problem, but by the time Mindbender shows up, I still have no idea how to sabotage the brainwashing or at least not come running to the Commander or Mindbender for help the second it starts wearing off.

Mindbender wastes no time with pleasantries and walks straight to the keyboard behind me, all but ignoring me. He types a few things before turning to me, looking bored.

"Feeling yourself again?" He asks.

"I've decided to kill both of you with as many blows as the number of times you do this to me. If you keep it going long enough, I may have to do it by stabbing you repeatedly with the blunt end of a toothpick."

He scowls. "Yes, I think we're good to go. You realize of course that with that chip in your head, we know when you break free, and we only need to be within a fairly generous range to shut you down. Count all you want, and by all means, if imagining yourself killing us slowly is helping you regain your sanity between treatments, go right ahead. It's much easier to start from a healthy mind when rebuilding, it eliminates a good deal of randomness."

He doesn't wait for a response from me before turning his machine on. I try not to scream, but within seconds, I can't help it and I don't care anymore.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

So, at least now that he's broken free once, the brainwash doesn't stick very well. AND, bonus, he killed three vipers (two very messily). See? I'm not ALWAYS cruel. :D

You might be wondering where Billy is and whether he's told GI Joe where Cobra's base is (Springfield). He'll be back, and although I won't actually tell you what he did and did not communicate to GI Joe (to avoid spoilers), I figured I'd let you know you'll find out eventually. Storm Shadow assumes he's safe and sound, as you've seen, but the thought hasn't really occurred to him that if GI Joe knew about Springfield, help could be on the way – he hasn't exactly been raised to hope to be rescued when he's in trouble.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Fifty.

Flippantly, part of me thinks I should be launching fireworks for the anniversary. Obviously, I'm not actually in any mood to celebrate.

I'm sick of waking up in this room, unable to move, about to have my brains turned to sludge again. I'm sick of remembering I got here pretty much all of my own accord, because I was in a panic over all those 'strange' memories and thoughts I was having. I usually don't even get the slight consolation of killing some troopers while I'm panicking anymore, because they all get trained on how to handle me and direct me safely to Mindbender.

As usual, my memories of the last few days feel like a foggy dream. I remember enough, however, to know I tried to kill my brother for the 11th time… thank goodness he's good enough to neutralize me every time, although if not for the fact that I can't put any thoughts in my attacks and that I'm therefore just using moves he knows just as well as me, in basic patterns he's familiar with, I'd be rather irritated at the invariability of my defeats at his hands.

Putting my feelings on it all aside, I concentrate on the battle, trying to remember anything he might have signed at me while I was busy trying to murder him. I'm eventually able to replay the whole battle in my mind, scowling and smiling at once at how basic and uninspired my attacks are, but once again, he's made no attempt to communicate. He hasn't the last three times we've met.

I know and understand why… I'm usually brain addled for three to four days between each treatment, so this has been going on for about six months. My brother used to try and talk to me every time we met, either through notes that I'd refuse to pick up and wouldn't have been able to read anyway, or through sign language that I could not understand and interpreted as random hand waving meant to mock me. As evidenced by our last three meetings, he's now concluded, quite rightly, that there was no point.

By now, I almost wonder why he won't go one step further and just kill me… he does seem to have given up on me, and considering everything I've done and am liable to keep doing, it really doesn't make sense for him to let me live.

I bite my lips and kill the train of thoughts. I really can't afford to start thinking about everything I've done for Cobra right now, I need to concentrate on the present if I want to ever stop serving them. Concentrate as I may, however, finding a way to break free is easier said than done.

No amount of meditation while I'm here by myself has ever prevented the conditioning or made any difference at all to my reaction when it starts wearing off. In desperation, I've actually attempted telepathy once, rationalizing at the time that my brother and I used to be very close - predictably, all I managed was to give myself a splitting headache before the treatment even started.

Sometimes, like today, I'm not actually paralyzed: I'm bound so securely in Mindbender's contraption that it doesn't actually make any difference: I can't break through the restraints and no amount of self-dislocating and squirming can free any part of my body. On such occasions, I've attempted several times to use my nails to scratch a message to myself into my skin, but the restraints are such that I can't even bend my fingers enough to reach my palms. I'm also still unable to consciously control my heart and my breathing, so overdoing the Sleeping Phoenix Trance is still not an option.

By now, I've even been reduced several times to wondering why my brother has never tried to break into the fortress to get me away from Cobra and at the very least take me prisoner. I absolutely hate myself for it - I can't stand the thought that I'd need to be rescued like some damsel in distress - but I can't help wondering. It's not just Snake Eyes not breaking into the fortress, either: I remember enough to know we still always leave town to engage GI Joe, so they haven't made any move on Springfield yet. I can't understand why: Billy was brought to the Pit by Snake Eyes, there's no way they wouldn't have asked him where Cobra's base was and I can't imagine his refusing to tell them. Given that they know where we are, why we're not constantly fending them off is a complete mystery to me.

I scowl at myself and make myself stop thinking of everything I've tried that hasn't worked and to stop pondering riddles. I've always had a vivid imagination, it's time to put it to use once more: I need to think of something; anything. Of course, it's that kind of reasoning that led to my trying telepathy, but just because none of my more unusual ideas have worked to date doesn't mean none ever will.

This is a cycle. The same thing, over and over again, and I can remember most everything for part of this cycle. There has to be a way I can take advantage of this.

I'm still trying to find that way when Mindbender arrives and activates his machine. I'd love to say I'm getting used to the pain by now, but I'm absolutely not – as always, as soon as it starts, all thoughts escape me and I can't even make myself stop screaming.

* * *

"Do you understand?" Destro asks me.

I blink. I know he was talking, I even know he was talking to me, but Destro has a talent for losing me. I can't even remember WHAT he was talking about.

He sighs. "No. Of course you don't. All right." He takes a deep breath. "We're about to fight the Joes."

He looks at me: I think he's waiting for a response. I nod.

"We want to capture Hawk." He stops again, still looking at me.

I nod again.

"Do you remember who Hawk is?" he asks.

I don't, so I shake my head. Destro sighs again.

"Hawk is the leader of the Joes," he groans. "Blond hair, General's Uniform... oh what's the use. You don't know what a General's uniform looks like."

He's right on that: I'm guessing it would involve some stars and stripes, or some other kind of decorations, but I wouldn't be able to really define it any better than that.

"Just don't kill any blond Joes," Destro says. "Can you handle that?"

I nod. Don't kill the blond Joes… easy.

"Good. Go."

I bow and start to leave, but I hear him muttering under his breath about how the Commander should be the one dealing with his own mess. I have no idea what mess he means, but I can't tolerate his muttering angrily about my master like that; I turn back towards him.

"Are you questioning the Commander?" I growl.

Destro freezes and his heart rate suddenly increases.

"No," he says. "Merely admitting the superiority of his leadership skills over mine."

I relax.

"Good," I say, and I turn to leave again.

He calls me back.

"Do you remember what I told you about the blond Joes?" he asks.

I frown in concentration. I can't have forgotten that already, that was only a few minutes ago. Something about a General? A blond General, and not to do something...

"Don't kill the blondes!" I exclaim, remembering. "Because that General is blond."

"Right," Destro says. "Off you go."

I bow again and this time, I really leave, following the red arrows to the Commander's Command Room because that's where I'm always supposed to go unless ordered otherwise.

The Commander frowns at me when I get there. I wince at the frown and bow, waiting for his orders.

"Didn't Destro give you your instructions?" he hisses.

"Yes, Master," I answer.

"Do you remember what they were?"

He sounds like he really wants me to. I frown in concentration, trying very hard to remember the actual orders I've received.

"Don't kill some of the Joes… the blondes." I sigh in relief: that was it, I'm sure of it.

The Commander rolls his eyes. "It will do. Follow him, he's going to the fight too," he hisses, pointing at a trooper who was walking by the Command Room. The trooper's heart rate spikes, but he obediently stops to wait for me.

"Yes, Master."

I bow, then follow the trooper to our plane.

* * *

The Commander is right in front of me, looking perfectly furious, when I wake up in Mindbender's lab for the fifty-first time. I grin, resisting the urge to laugh simply because he'd just make Mindbender silence me again.

"You will pay for this," the Commander hisses. "You HAD him!"

I didn't, actually; my blade only skimmed my brother's mask because he blocked my attempt at taking his head off, and said block had left me wide open. I don't see how correcting the Commander's false impression would make him angrier, however, so I don't.

"It's hardly my fault that he's blond; I remembered my instructions not to kill the blond Joes… aren't you proud of me?"

The Commander snarls under his hood. "Your instructions were to not kill the blondes so you wouldn't kill HAWK! Snake Eyes didn't count!" he screams.

"Yeah… I did forget THAT part. Although I probably wouldn't have realized Snake Eyes wasn't Hawk even if I had remembered."

"And the only reason not to kill Hawk was to capture him! You didn't even TRY to capture Snake Eyes!"

I snigger. "I did SOME killing, though," I observe. "When I lost it on the way back, I killed all those Crimson Guards that were in the plane with me, because they wouldn't make the voice go away. I admit I'm impressed by your pilot… he actually managed to convince me to let him drive the plane. I did get angry when it turned out we didn't land within sight of this Mindbender person they all said would help me, though. Ahhh… good times," I finish with a happy sigh.

It's not as though he didn't already know all this, but my retelling has the expected result: he explodes, screaming every insult he can think of at me. As usual, however, he eventually just orders Mindbender to activate the machine.

* * *

The Commander suddenly looks up from the report he was reading and glares at me.

_He's angry with me._

The realization feels like a cold hand seizing my heart. I don't even remember what I did wrong.

"Storm Shadow," he hisses. "I'm in no mood to endure your presence right now: go outside the door. I'll let you know when the sight of you is tolerable to me again."

I gulp, my eyes wide and threatening to fill with tears. He can't STAND my presence anymore? What have I done? How could I make him so angry?

I feel like dirt, like the lowest of the low. I can't believe I was so heartless as to fail him badly enough for him to turn on me like this. I swallow again.

"M…Master… I… I'm sorry. I…" I trail off. Not only is my throat so tight that it hurts to talk, I simply have no idea what else to say: I DO keep failing him, even though I try my best.

His scowl darkens. I bow and leave, because that's what he ordered, and because maybe removing myself will make him a bit happier.

* * *

I stay outside the door, as ordered, miserable and lost. I don't know what to do. I always do everything I can, and I always fail, because… because of Snake Eyes.

My nose wrinkles up in distaste at the very thought of the name, and my fists clench. This is HIS fault. It's HIS fault my master hates me. I can never kill him, and I actually remember his stopping me from killing other people, too. Oh, I HATE him.

My lips curl up in a snarl and I spend the next little while reflecting on just how good it would feel to rip his heart from his chest.

I'm interrupted by a group of men - some of the ones that wear different clothes - rushing to the Commander's office with a boy in their arms, screaming at everyone to let them through. The boy has obviously been through the ringer: he's missing a leg, one of his eyelids is sown shut, and despite being manhandled in the middle of such a racket, he's unconscious.

I tilt my head, listening to him. He's vaguely familiar, but I can't place him.

"Who's that?" I ask. "And what do you want with the Commander?"

"Just get out of the way, ninja. The Commander wants this kid."

I narrow my eyes at him. He gulps and one of the other men cuts in much more politely, if a little shakily.

"The Commander asked us to get him this boy. Can you let him know we're here?"

I knock on the door behind me without turning to face it – I much prefer to continue staring these men down than to see the Commander glaring at me again so soon.

He gets up from his desk and stomps to the door, slamming it open.

"WHAT?" he screams. "Storm Shadow, you…" He stops and takes a sharp intake of breath. "Billy," he breathes.

I turn to him, bowing slightly, and see that he has his eyes locked on the boy. At least the men did not lie – he obviously does know this kid… Billy. The name is familiar too, but I still have no idea why.

After a few seconds, he turns back to me and fishes what looks like a small remote control out of his pocket.

"Storm Shadow, do you have any idea who this is?" he asks, pointing to the teenager.

I shake my head.

"I'm sorry, Master, I don't. He's vaguely familiar, but…"

"Bad enough," he cuts me off. He presses a button on his remote and suddenly, I'm in more pain than I've ever imagined anyone could ever be. It seems to last forever, and only ends when everything goes quiet.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Short chapter, I know, sorry… the string of long ones had to end sometime.

Thank you for reading!


	31. Chapter 31

  
**Chapter 31**

It feels like my head is fighting with itself.

There are a lot of things I don't understand, and I always have trouble remembering anything, but no effort at remembering something, no amount of puzzlement over what's going on, compares to this; I can't understand my own thoughts. Even the very fact that I care is unexplainable to me. I usually don't mind being confused – it's pretty much the norm, really. But this kind of confusion, with all these thoughts popping up in my head, contradicting one another and not making any kind of sense, is dizzying.

One set of thoughts is insisting that Billy is not safe here because we haven't redeemed ourselves yet, we haven't proven that we're not under the control of the Order. Those thoughts are convinced the Commander is going to execute Billy. I have no clue what the Order is, I can't imagine why anyone would think I'm under the control of anyone but my master, and I can't understand why I'm concerned for the kid or why I even remember his name.

Another set of thoughts keeps correcting those first ones, and insisting the Commander is more likely to brainwash Billy than to kill him. Those thoughts also very firmly believe that my master is my enemy and that there is no Order… I can't really form an opinion on that last piece, seeing those thoughts also fail to clarify what the Order is supposed to be, but I'm horrified at the fact there's a part of my head that thinks my master is my enemy.

Meanwhile, a last set of thoughts - that at least feel like my own - is obsessing over how the pain started when the Commander pressed the button on that little remote control he had, right after he said something – what, I don't know – was bad. I think the Commander caused the pain by pressing that button. I certainly did deserve to be punished for making him angry, but that much pain… I think it means that he hates me. Whatever it is I've done, he hates me for it. The realization hurts a lot more than the device he used did.

The set of thoughts that thinks Billy will be executed protests that the Commander would not hurt me even if I displeased him because he's too smart to risk driving me away as long as I'm useful to him and therefore, to his cause.

The set of thoughts that seems to hate my master protests and insists the Commander would hurt me for fun and has been doing just that, and that he'll turn my apprentice into a helpless slave as well.

Disturbingly, the other two sets of thoughts don't argue about the idea that the child is my apprentice, and from there, things only get more confusing as the three sides continue to argue about what is actually going on.

* * *

By the time I wake up, the confusion is gone but I'm still not exactly rational: I'm scared out of my wits for Billy. I don't know what happened to cost him his leg and his eye, but I do know what WILL happen to him if he doesn't escape. I'm completely paralysed this time, but my senses are intact, as usual, and I can easily tell Billy is not in the room.

Mindbender, however, is already behind me and the Commander is sitting a few steps away, in a chair brought in especially for him. He puts down the file he had been reading when Mindbender lets him know that I'm awake and walks up to me, glaring.

I know the logical thing to do would be to calm down and just ask nicely; as nicely as I can considering who I'm talking to, anyway. I try, and I fail miserably. I only manage to keep myself from screaming.

"Where is he?" I growl. "What are you going to do to him?"

"MY son will be just fine," he hisses. "I'm having him fit with a prosthetic leg, and he won't even know the difference. You should know, you've never been bothered by the repairs to your spine and that was done with the same technology. The troopers who were good enough to be worth such care in the past have had zero recovery time as well."

My eyes widen briefly – my spine having been repaired by some of Cobra's ultra-modern medical care does explain why my legs were perfectly fine again after a shot in my back completely cut contact between them and my central nervous system.

"Once that's done and once he's done with you, Mindbender will start working on Billy… he and I will be a family again, finally. You've delayed things quite a bit when you broke him out."

"Monster," I snarl. I know I'm wasting my time but I can't help myself. "He's your SON!"

He snorts. "Better a monster than a monster's lap dog," he hisses. "Mindbdender, start. And if he recognizes him again…"

The last thing I hear is Mindbender impatiently saying that I won't before the pain starts, drowning everything.

* * *

I report to the Commander's office as usual when I wake up. I knock on the door, dreading how he'll react – I remember how angry he's been for the past couple of days, but I don't remember why and I have no idea whether I'm forgiven or not.

"Come in," he hisses.

I let myself in, close the door behind me and kneel, waiting for my instructions.

"Get up," he snaps. "I want you to meet my son."

"Your… son, Master?"

I could hit myself right now. How could I forget my Master's child?

"Yes," he hisses.

He gets up and motions me to come along. I fall into step behind him and follow him through several hallways until he finally enters a room in the hospital section of the fortress.

The room only has one occupant: a teenager sporting a pirate-like patch on his right eye, lying in bed with restraints preventing any movement below the neck. He turns his head towards us when we enter and his free eye widens.

"My son, Billy," the Commander hisses, pointing to him. "Say hello, son. Don't be shy."

The boy looks straight at me, looking deadly serious. His accelerated heartbeat is the only thing that betrays he's not as calm as he's trying to look.

"Sensei," he says, "you know me. You trained me. You don't belong here, you're being manipulated."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You have me confused with someone else."

He loses all trace of calm: his pulse shoots up and he starts pulling at his restraints, with no result. "NO!" he yells. "Sensei, you can't…! ARGH!" He turns to his father, looking downright murderous. "I HATE you. You…!"

He stops when I put the point of my sword on his throat. Son or not, talking to my master like this is NOT acceptable.

"You will apologize," I growl. "Now."

"At ease, Storm Shadow," the Commander says. "We have some disagreements, but we're working on them. You are not to react to his behaviour towards me, unless there's a clear and immediate threat."

"Yes, Master."

I sheathe my sword again and step away from the boy. He gives me a look that gives a new meaning to puppy dog eyes before heaving a sigh and turning away from both me and his father.

For reasons I can't fathom, the Commander laughs out loud and heads for the door, motioning me to follow. I bow to the boy on the way out, but I don't think he notices.

* * *

The Commander dismisses me as soon as we're back in his office, and orders me to the gym until dinner, citing my latest defeat to Snake Eyes.

Hiding the sting his words cause me, I bow and take my leave.

* * *

I'm going through katas when I hear it. It's barely audible, even for me, but it's more than enough: screams of terror, interspersed with pleas and calls for help addressed to the screamer's sensei.

I had already forgotten "meeting" him this morning, but his screams cut right through the fog in my head: there's no confusion this time, I go straight from feeling miserable because I keep failing my master by losing to Snake Eyes to wanting to slowly strangle the life out of said 'master'. Overriding that particular wish, though, is the more immediate need to get Billy away from here.

I run out of the gym, resisting the urge to draw a weapon so the troops won't think I'm about to attack someone and merely assume that I've suddenly decided to run around for no good reason. They HAVE seen more bizarre from me.

I take out a slip of paper and a pen once I get to the hallway leading into Mindbender's lab – it's as empty as usual, so there is nobody to notice I'm actually writing real words. I stop long enough to hurriedly scribble a note to Billy. I intend to yell his instructions at him too, but the note is a backup in case he's still too out of it to hear what I'm going to say and a way to convey a bit of information to Snake Eyes.

_LEAVE ME. You can't carry me and still escape. Tell Snake Eyes that Zartan killed the Hard Master, Scrap Iron the Soft Master. GO!_

I start running again and tie the note to a throwing knife, ready that knife and two more in my right hand and three other in my left hand: I will need every fraction of second I can save once Mindbender and the Commander realize what I'm doing. With any luck, they're too busy with Billy to be monitoring me right now, but as soon as I crash in, they'll have the option to activate the safety switch and knock me out. I need to make sure Billy is free and gets my message before that happens.

I'd love to be able to simply throw knifes in their throats and kill them there and then, despite the fact it would be a much, much quicker death than I want for them, but I know the safety on the chip will activate by itself if I make a move against the Commander, and I'm pretty sure Mindbender has extended that protection to himself, too. Therefore, I can't attack them – the only thing I can do is make sure Billy is able to dash out of there. I really hope the Commander wasn't bragging on how good a prosthetic leg he's given him.

Billy is still screaming, but there are no longer any words mixed in. From his position in the room, I know he's in the chair, and I can also hear Mindbender behind him. The Commander is standing in a corner, his pulse betraying more impatience and excitement than anything else. I curse inwardly and forcibly remind myself I can't touch him. Although I wouldn't have thought it possible to hate the Commander more than I already did, I certainly do now that he's putting Billy through this.

"I won't touch him," I chant under my breath several times, afraid to accidentally activate the safety before I've set Billy free.

I don't slow down once I get to the door. I kick it in and before the Commander and Mindbender can react, throw my three knifes at the hand restraints and the steel cable connecting the chair to the wall. Billy's screams subside into whimpers and he opens his eyes just in time to see me throw a knife handle first at the Commander's hand, knocking the device he just pulled out of his pocket out of his hand without harming him in the slightest.

"BILLY, GO! LEAVE ME!" I scream.

At the same time, I throw a shuriken at the Commander's device and my two remaining knives at the restraints around Billy's feet.

I don't see them reach their goal. Mindbender activates his own device and the pain drowns everything out.

* * *

"You owe your life to Snake Eyes, ninja," the Commander hisses. "I wouldn't need you if not for HIM."

He's so mad his eyes are actually dancing.

"Billy escaped, then, did he?" I ask, making my tone as casual as I can.

"I'll have him back," he growls. "You think this was a step forward for you, don't you? You think he'll tell Snake Eyes that you broke through the conditioning, and that your sword brother will rescue you?"

I don't answer. I hadn't really thought of that, but now that he mentions it, it IS a nice bonus that Billy should have been able to let my brother know I can still be brought back.

"He won't," the Commander hisses. "He's going to tell Snake Eyes what I told HIM: you will never be free. Even if you somehow end up coming back to your senses while we're too far to bring you under control, you will not enjoy freedom for very long: the chip is programmed to automatically activate the safety measure one hour after sending the alarm that the conditioning is completely off unless we stop it, and to keep it going. Mindbender figures you'd be dead within minutes. If you're ever free again, it will only be for about an hour."

Having said that, he turns on his heels and starts to leave, his fists still clenched and his heart rate still up from sheer rage.

It's funny in a way… he thinks he's just delivered my hopes a crushing blow, but in fact, he's just informed me Snake Eyes is now aware of what he'll have to do to set me free. Hopefully, my brother does a better job of going through with it than I did when I thought he was the one who needed to be put out of his misery.

"Q-tips," I announce before the Commander closes the door. He stops for a moment, curious as to what I mean, before he thinks better of it. "This is the fifty-third time," I explain. "Toothpicks would be too quick, I think, even if use the blunt end."

He snickers. "Dream on, Mr. Ninja. You're mine, and you will remain mine until I decide I don't need you anymore and kill you."

I snicker too, deliberately imitating him, right before the machine kicks in and makes me forget there are other things in the Universe than the pain I'm feeling.

* * *

Sixty-seven.

I try to focus my thoughts on trying to come up with a way to free myself, but lately, it has become harder and harder. It's like my brains are just tired of always thinking about the same unsolvable problems whenever they're actually in any condition to think.

It doesn't help that I keep coming back to the fact Snake Eyes could free me if he'd only get around to it. We've fought twelve times since Billy escaped - most of them in Springfield, finally - and he hasn't even TRIED to kill me. He really needs to stop procrastinating, too; the Commander has already started the preparations to abandon Springfield and move on to his next fortress. Pretty soon, Snake Eyes will no longer know where to even find me.

I do my best to try and think of an alternative solution to my brother doing his job - with the same lack of result as usual - right until Mindbender starts his machine and shuts down my capacity to think again.

* * *

I sit down with my lunch at the first empty table I see, only for another man to sit down right in front of me. I look at him curiously; nobody usually sits with me. He looks familiar, so I'm pretty sure he's one of the higher ups.

"Thank goodness I found you," he whispers softly.

I raise an eyebrow at him; I can't imagine why he'd be looking for me.

"The Commander is in grave danger," he announces, still in a low whisper.

I stop eating, my eyes wide. "How?" I ask urgently, getting up to look around. "Where is he now?"

"Shh! Sit down! He's not in danger RIGHT now."

I sit on the edge of my seat and fix my eyes on his. The dark makeup he wears makes them look unnatural, which only serves to irritate me more.

"Why is he in danger? How do I protect him?"

"Will you quiet down? If anybody finds out you've been warned… it'll be all over. He'll die."

My eyes widen again and my heart starts hammering. "Talk!" I breathe. "What's going on?"

"It's a very elaborate plot by GI Joe. I've discovered it, but I can't stop it. They have something planned against anything we may do to defend the Commander. I don't know what to do."

I gulp. GI Joe, setting out to kill my master, and we can't stop them? This can't be happening… I have to stop them, I can't fail him this time; I can't!

"I have to go to him," I say, getting up again. "I can stop whoever they send. I…"

"It won't help," he interrupts me, gesturing me to sit back down. "They're going to use some kind of weapon that you can't block, and they don't need to be close to him to use it."

I clench my fists and it's all I can do not to start screaming in frustration and despair. "Tell me what I need to do!" I mean it to sound like a demand, but it comes out sounding more like a plea.

"I figure we only have one chance. There is one person who is key to their whole plan; as long as she's around, there's nothing we can do to stop them, there's nothing we can do to save the Commander."

"And if she dies…?"

"If she dies before tomorrow, they will have to abandon the plan. The Commander will be safe."

"I can kill her. Just tell me where she is."

He sighs in relief and passes me a picture of a woman with flaming red hair gathered in a ponytail. She looks vaguely familiar. "She's a Joe," he says. "Her name is Scarlett, and she'll be there when we attack GI Joe later today."

"Scarlett," I repeat, staring at the picture, trying to steady my hands so it'll stop shaking. "We're attacking GI Joe?"

He nods. "You will remember, right? Scarlett must die, today, or the Commander will be dead by tomorrow night. Nothing we can do will save him if you don't kill her today, when we attack GI Joe."

I shudder violently at the thought. "I'll remember. And she will die."

"Good. Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

He smiles, gets up and leaves, leaving the picture with me. I glance at it one more time before tucking it in one of my pockets.

I can't stop shaking and after attempting a few bites, I give up on my lunch to go get ready for the upcoming battle. I can't fail this time, I just… I can't. I can't let my master be killed. Another violent shiver runs through me and my heart starts hammering a bit faster. I can't fail. I have to save my master.

* * *

I start looking for the red head as soon as we engage GI Joe, deliberately avoiding Snake Eyes. Each second that passes makes me more terrified that she's not there: she must die for the Commander to live. I don't remember the actual explanation, but I do remember that I MUST kill her, or my master will die.

My heart skips a bit and I grin in relief when I finally spot her. I rush her and much to my surprise, she manages to evade my first strike. I adjust and strike again, and this time, a blade held by a third person blocks mine. I recognize my opponent by sound; he's all too familiar.

I curse under my breath. Snake Eyes. Again and always, Snake Eyes!

"Oh no, you don't," I growl at him. "Not this time!"

He ignores me and places himself between the red head and me, his heart pounding just as hard as mine, and my eyes widen in sudden realization: I'm afraid because my master is in danger, and he's just as afraid as me because SHE is.

I'm no good at figuring things out, but this, I can understand; I AM feeling the exact same thing, after all. She's precious to him, just like my master is to me. This is how I can hurt him… I can't even imagine the misery I'd be in if my Master died, and I can inflict it on HIM. All I have to do is kill her, take her away from him. It's killing two birds with one stone: I can save the Commander and hurt Snake Eyes - make him cry like a baby, make him pay for every time he's made me fail the Commander.

I snarl at him and launch myself towards him, veering at the last moment to bypass him and strike at Scarlett. He blocks me, missing my blade but hitting my arm, deflecting it enough for my sword to only catch the girl's shoulder. She winces and tries to strike back, but all she accomplishes is to open her defences wider – I move to strike again, but suddenly hear Snake Eyes' blade moving through the air behind me.

I throw myself on the side, or rather, I try. In reality, I only manage to move by a few inches before the impossibly fast blade pushes its way through my back, coming out through my chest, its gleam hitting my eyes. The pain spreads out from the point it entered and blood fills my throat, drowning me. I try coughing it out, but more just keeps flooding my breathing passages. I collapse to my knees, the realization sinking in; I'm dying.

Images and sounds flood through my head, of another time. Snake Eyes, trying to kill me… I'm not hit, yet I'm in even more pain than now and for some reason, I can't believe he'd do that.

"Why… why did you?" I hiccup. I'm not sure who I'm talking to, it feels like I'm living two different moments, one of which is not actually happening to me and yet is taking over. The one where any hate I have towards Snake Eyes is gone, replaced by pain. I don't understand, why am I in so much pain if he hasn't hit me yet?

Even though it suddenly dawns on me that the pain I'm feeling is not physical but emotional, I've never felt so confused. Even though I can barely get the words out, I can't help but beg for things to make sense, I don't want to die without even understanding what I'm feeling. At the end like this, I'm terrified that if I don't even know my own mind, I'll be doomed to try and make sense of myself forever.

"Why… betrayed? Hurt…?"

Scarlett has no answer for me and as usual, Snake Eyes is silent. Yet I can't stop talking, or rather, I can't stop trying to talk - I can barely even breathe. I don't know why it matters, but I can't help myself: I need to know. I need to understand why it hurt so much. I need the closure, I need to clear this last bit of confusion.

Snake Eyes' heart is erratic. I feel worry grip me for a fraction of second before I remember he's fine, and I finally understand why it hurt so much when he tried to kill me before.

"I… care? For YOU? But you're… you just… you're always…"

And then, it feels like floodgates open. The memories wash over me, drowning me just like my own blood. I remember everything, from my earliest memories as a baby to Zartan, talking me into attacking Scarlett in the hopes I'll get myself killed.

I suddenly feel the ground against my upper body and the side of my face and although it predictably hurts, I chuckle: I'm free. He did it, he saved me. I almost feel like telling him off for taking so long, but he'd probably take me seriously if I did and feel bad about it.

"Brother… th… thank you," I manage to mumble before the silence claims me.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

A piercing pain in my chest wakes me up.

I'm alive.

I'm all too familiar with what happens next. I try to jump out of bed, expecting either my body to be paralyzed or solidly tied up. It's the latter this time: I can move but restraints prevent me from doing much more than jerking about a bit. They're too tight and well tied for me to slip free even if I were to dislocate my hands, and when I try to apply more strength to break free, the pain in my chest explodes in reaction.

I finally register the sounds around me when I stop struggling. I can only detect one more person: Snake Eyes, asleep. His presence here nearly sends me into a panic.

This can't be happening. I thought it was over and instead, not only did Cobra manage to recover me from the field and keep me alive, they've captured my brother, too?

They must have picked me up and somehow blackmailed him, forced him to surrender if he wanted me to live, and the idiot did it. Either that, or he was stupid enough to cry over my body and they got him from behind. He's just as deaf as anybody else, he probably wouldn't know until he was hit that he was under attack, especially if he was distracted by misplaced grief. Maybe he was shot? For all I know, he could be in critical condition and although he merely sounds asleep, he could be on the brink of death – all because of me.

I open my eyes to look around, frantically looking for a way to get us both out of here.

My eyes widen when they see him: he IS asleep, on a chair. He's perfectly fine, or at least it looks like he is, and he's just snoozing away. I sweep the rest of the room and my eyes widen further. This is not Mindbender's lab; it's a clinic, decorated with an American flag and GI Joe's logo.

By all appearances, I'm in custody of the Joes, not Cobra. This would be exceptionally good news if I believed it at all. I try to break from my restraints again, and again, the pain in my chest stops me. It feels like not one but two blades are still imbedded in there, and were just lit on fire. I cry out in pain before I can stop myself.

The noise wakes Snake Eyes and he quickly puts a hand on my shoulder. I'm not sure how he can be so calm… I refuse to believe he'd be fooled by the set-up Cobra put us in.

"I can barely move. Look, you can laugh at me later, but in the meantime, untie me, would you? We need to get out of here. You shouldn't have waited for me to wake up… for crying out loud, even if you couldn't stand to leave me here, I'm not THAT heavy. What were you THINKING? If…"

I have to stop, I'm completely out of breath. Snake Eyes signs at me to try and stay calm, and sits back down without undoing my restraints.

I glare at him.

"GO!" I snarl. "They can't have us both! If you can't move me…"

He gets back up and puts both hands on my shoulders briefly before signing at me to calm down again. Obviously, he's not going anywhere until we've talked. I can only hope we'll be left alone for a while still, long enough for us to have whatever little chat he thinks we need. I can't figure out why he's not restrained, but I'm starting to think my first guess was right: he's staying because he's been told I'd be killed otherwise… or maybe Cobra is holding someone else, too.

"They have Scarlett?" I ask.

He cocks his head briefly before he shakes it and signs that I have a collapsed lung and that I really should try to rest, not talk too much and stay calm.

"You need to finish me off," I say, suddenly realizing the solution to our current problem. If I'm gone, Cobra will still only have one of us even if he does get captured, and if he's not trying to save me, he'll have a much easier time escaping.

He shakes his head vigorously and signs that I'm safe and that we're in the Pit.

I blink at him, disbelieving.

He notices my scepticism, clicks his tongue irritably and signs to ask why I think he's not tied up and we're not being guarded if we're prisoners. I roll my eyes.

"You're smarter than this," I growl. "It's a trick. Cobra's got this thing in my head, they always know whether I'm dead or alive and they know it each time I start to get my memories back. This happens all the time. I don't know how they…" I stop, out of breath once again, before I can comment further on how they've even kept me alive.

He digs something out of his pocket and shows it to me: a tiny little flat piece of metal with an elaborate pattern on it. He puts it back in his pocket, and signs that this was the only chip in my head and that it's been removed.

"Cobra would know that too, and I'm guessing the chip would react if someone tried to remove it," I counter. "We don't have time for this, Brother! We need to get out of here!"

He shakes his head again and signs that I was dead when they removed it and that it was powered down because it was only powered by the electrical currents in my brains.

I blink at him again. "I was dead?"

He nods.

"So you DID kill me."

He stiffens and signs irritably that he didn't, and that the chip just kicked in while I was in surgery and that I'm very lucky they knew about it and were ready to remove it as soon as I went into cardiac arrest. He then asks how my head feels, prompting me to notice it's hurting almost as much as my chest.

His story raises a few questions, but none of them is more urgent than figuring out whether he's right about our current location.

"It's lousy," I reply, more to make it clear I wasn't ignoring him than anything else. "Do you swear to me that you have proof positive that this is the Pit, not a disguised room in Cobra's base? No, wait, you don't. You were…" I have to stop to catch my breath again. "You were asleep. Go check."

He sighs, but gets up and goes to look through the window in the door. He punches a code on the door, which answers with a cheery beep, and comes back to the side of my bed. He nods and signs at me that if I don't calm down and rest, he'll knock me out again.

So, unless I'm hallucinating all of this, this really is the Pit. As soon as the thought forms that this could all be an illusion, I can't shake it. After all, other than my surroundings, everything is the same as usual, down to my being completely immobilized. I can't understand why I would be if this was all real: if I really were with the Joes, guarded by Snake Eyes and badly injured, there would be no need for me to be tied down like this.

"Can you untie me?" I ask the person who, up until now, I was certain was my brother.

He signs an apology and shakes his head.

"Why?" I demand.

He signs that I need to stay put because of my injury. I scowl at him. I don't think he realizes his refusal is undoing all the careful recreation they've done, down to my brother's life signs, and confirming my doubts.

"That's ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of not moving even if I'm not completely immobilized. Besides, I'm also capable of hurting myself, right now. If you really are my brother, just untie me."

He signs his apology again, takes out a notepad and starts writing.

_This is not an illusion, even if I can't untie you. I'm me, this is the Pit. You once drank a tall glass of real milk in basic training because Smith had switched the soy milk. He bet he could defeat you in a one-on-one fight that day and even though you were literally green when you fought him, he lost the bet._

I frown at the note. I wouldn't go as far as saying I'd forgotten about that, but it's certainly not a memory that surfaces a lot. I swallow. I know I've never related this particular episode to Mindbender, or anybody else in Cobra for that matter. It's not that I wouldn't want people to know about it, it's just that it's completely insignificant. I'd have been just as likely to tell someone about a random training session. I just really don't think of being sick or of winning an easy fight as memorable.

"I have no idea how you know about this," I admit. "But I still think this is a trick. Untie me."

He hesitates and after a moment, signs to request a promise I won't move for at least an hour until the medic gets here to check on me.

"Unless there's a threat."

He sags a bit in exasperation, starts signing that HE's there, but he finally gives in under the glare I give him. He signs to request the promise again, this time adding in my restrictive clause.

"You have my word."

He bends over and my heart practically jumps out of my chest when he presses one button and all the restraints tying me down retract into the bed.

Cobra would NEVER take this chance, promise or not - they don't exactly believe in promises anyway. This really isn't a trick. I'm with GI Joe, Cobra thinks I'm dead, and the chip is gone.

"I'm free...?" I breathe.

He stiffens and signs that technically, I'm a prisoner, but that yes, I AM free of Cobra.

I chuckle, but stop abruptly and my eyes widen. "Billy. Where is he? Is he okay? Cobra had him. Did you find him? What happened to him?

Snake Eyes cocks his head and emits a voiceless chuckle. I frown at him. I can't see what's amusing at all. He signs that I'm very cute as a mother hen and that Billy is in hiding, but safe and sound, and that he made it here when he escaped, or rather, he made it to a recruitment office in New York and managed to convince them to contact GI Joe on his behalf.

I groan. So, my apprentice is somewhere, and as far as someone who doesn't know where that is knows, he's fine. I suppose it IS better than finding out he was recaptured by Cobra at some point and simply kept away from me.

"Did he give you my note?" I ask.

He nods. He signs to add that Billy was also the one who told them what they needed to know about the chip Cobra had in my head and who told them about Springfield.

"I figured he did, but I don't understand… if you knew about Springfield for months, what took you so long to move in? Or were you just trying to make sure the whole thing wasn't a setup? Couldn't you have figured out he was telling the truth with satellite shots or a couple of recon missions?"

He stiffens again, obviously made uncomfortable by the question, and signs that Billy only told them about Springfield when he escaped, and that it had indeed only taken a few days to confirm he was telling the truth about the Cobra controlled town.

"Didn't he tell the Soft Master and you where the base was when he told you who he was and what he was doing with me?"

He shakes his head, hesitates, then shrugs. He signs to say Billy may have mentioned the name of the town to the Soft Master, before he joined them. He adds that at the time, his mind was rather far from finding that out and that he thought he was taking Billy to the Pit anyway.

I scowl at him at that. "So you didn't even make it to the Pit. You were with him when he lost his eye and his leg."

He nods. His head stays down and he signs that they were ambushed. He at least does not apologize, making it clear that he did everything he could to keep Billy safe and is not guilty of his injuries.

"There were troops surrounding me… what happened? Did they recognize you?"

He nods and this time, does sign that he's sorry. I wave it off.

"You didn't know about the troops, and I'm guessing the Soft Master told you to get there as quickly as you could, so it's no surprise you didn't have an elaborate disguise. I'm guessing you threw on that hat and trench coat I've seen you in before?"

He nods and signs that he tried to put distance between Billy and himself so my apprentice wouldn't get caught in the crossfire, but that the Cobra troops had interpreted his actions to mean he was intent on protecting the kid and that, therefore, it was a good idea to try and blow him up. He adds that Billy managed to avoid three of the four missiles directed at him but that the fourth one took out his leg and sent fragments of pavement into his face, one of which embedded itself into his eye.

"He went into shock and you managed to get him back to the Pit, but he was in a coma until Cobra kidnapped him from whatever hospital you had him in," I finish for him. I really don't need to hear the details of his belated heroic rescue.

He nods, uselessly since I didn't really need confirmation. Now that I'm reassured about Billy, where I am and my situation hits me again. Much like last time I thought I was free of Cobra, when the Soft Master talked me out of my conditioning and literally knocked some sense into me, my mind is running circles and I don't know what to say or, for that matter, what to think.

Snake Eyes just sits back and lets me think, something I'm not sure I'm grateful for. From the realization that I don't need to work for Cobra ever again, my thoughts slip to my time there, and this time, I'm not trying to think my way out of an unsolvable problem and so, I can't conjure up any motivation to snap out of the reminiscences.

Scenes from my time with Cobra start replaying in my head, with frightening realism even by my standards when it comes to memories. It's like my brains are compensating for the fact I'm not feeling all that bad about what I've been doing while I was pretty much brain dead by reminding me about what I did back when I had most or all of my wits intact.

The United Nations… unlike when it was happening, I smell the blood on myself, I feel each droplet that touches me. I notice every man that falls under my blade, I hear their last cries and I hear their hearts stop. So many of them … dozens of soldiers, dozens of former brothers in arms, and I was out to murder as many of them as I possibly could.

I see the outside of a science lab next. My eyes are closed and I'm seeing the scene perfectly, so I open them and try to concentrate on something in the room, to no avail.

Five rookies are shooting at me, then two of them are dead and the remaining three all have missing fingers from my slicing their guns out of their hands with shurikens. One of them passes out, another wets himself, and I don't even care. I kill all three of them and despite the fact they weren't a threat to me at all and that even then, I KNEW they hadn't killed anyone from my family, the only thing I feel is regret at the fact I couldn't kill MORE.

"I thought they were evil," I mutter, trying to reason with myself and chase the visions away. "I really thought they deserved it."

I hear Snake Eyes jump and he snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. With some effort, I focus on him. He tries and fails to hide a sigh of relief and signs that Doc is going to check on me soon, very obviously just to make conversation. Knowing how much of an effort that represents for him brings to mind that the GI Joe doctors probably patched up my chest, my lung, and performed brain surgery to remove my chip… it certainly seems like a lot of trouble for an enemy.

I'm not even sure how many members of GI Joe I've killed. I kept count while I thought they were the Order's puppets, so I know I killed 23 during that time, but I never did before then, and I didn't make any effort to remember how many I killed afterwards. My guess would be a grand total between 40 and 50, not counting any soldier from any other unit, American or otherwise. My mind, quite unnecessarily, veers into flashbacks as if to confirm my guess.

I relive battles that occurred in the past few months, this time actually knowing what it is I'm doing, and witness myself killing a total of 11 members of GI Joe. I go back through battles with Snake Eyes and, for the first time, notice that although he never tried to kill me, he was consistently trying his best to maim me. Even without being able to think, my instincts and my muscle memory were enough to help me escape injury most of the time. On the flip side, I can't remember actually landing a single hit on him – obviously, I landed 11 lethal hits on others. I clench my teeth and remind myself it was only my body doing these things – my mind was completely disconnected at the time.

The Science Lab plays itself out again next; those five - and the three inside, for that matter - were rookies on a training exercise. My fists clench and I repeat to myself a few times that I really, honestly thought for sure that they deserved it at the time.

Scenes from my first eight years with Cobra invade my thoughts next, and this time, I can't deny I did everything out of my own free will, with no deception involved. With a lot more clarity than I'd like, I see every commando that stumbled into what their instruments claimed were empty rooms, and I relive the deaths of most of them. For a very scary second, I can't even think why I killed them, and when I do remember that it was to earn the name of my uncle's killer, I can hardly believe it was the only reason. The fact that I found out in the end that the Commander would not even have honoured our deal makes it all seem completely pointless. I groan, and if not for my promise to stay still, I'd be very tempted to curl up into a ball. I always used to push back to later the matter of reclaiming my honour once I left Cobra, and now that I can't push it back anymore, it's clear that I simply can't; I've done far too much.

I start replaying the last few months again next, but this time, I also keep seeing myself willingly rushing back to Mindbender to clear the confusion… in essence, just because I was afraid. I also find myself revisiting the three years I spent thinking I was a force for good even while I was trying to avenge a family I didn't remember – this time complete with all the times I practically begged Mindbender to erase my distressing memories.

There's just too much to make up for, and making excuses for parts of it is not helping. I'm the one who did all those things, and I'm the one who allowed myself to be repeatedly brainwashed into Cobra's puppet. I can't undo it all; I can't clear my name; I can't regain my honour. I have no idea what to do. Part of me feels it'd be a lot easier if GI Joe had just killed me; the same part of me, no doubt, that always opted to be brainwashed again rather than be confused or have to live with painful memories.

"Why did they save me?" I ask Snake Eyes, more to force my thoughts to focus on the present than out of real curiosity. "Your medical staff, I mean. You put a sword through one of my lungs and you said my chip put me into cardiac arrest… it can't have been all that easy to keep me alive."

He signs that from GI Joe's point of view, I'm potentially an extremely precious informant.

I frown, thinking. Even though there's no way for me to make up for everything I did with Cobra, I do owe Snake Eyes and GI Joe my life and my freedom, and I may at least be able to repay THAT debt. I'm not at all sure, however, that I know anything of use - unless Cobra is still in Springfield. And seeing the Commander was ready to go and just lost his counter-card to GI Joe's ninja, I doubt he'd stick around in a known location for long.

"I don't think the Commander is still in Springfield, or any higher-ups for that matter."

He signs that they are indeed gone, and that he couldn't even find them when he stormed the fortress after entrusting me to the care of Doc and someone else called Lifeline. After a brief pause, he adds that Hawk is counting on me to tell him where the new base is.

My eyes widen a bit. He correctly interprets my reaction and sighs, signing his guess that I have no idea.

"Let me think," I say.

He signs to ask me whether I'm going to zone out and start muttering to myself again.

I shrug. "Just snap me out of it again if I do."

He nods and sits back down, staring at me. I ignore him to concentrate on remembering any clue I may have seen or heard in the past few days, while under Mindbender's control. I don't get much of a chance to do so, however: within a few minutes, I hear two sets of steps coming this way, one of which I recognize as belonging to none other than my once self-proclaimed best friend in the whole world, General Hawk.

"General Hawk is headed this way with someone else," I whisper to Snake Eyes. "Do you want to put the restraints back on me?"

He hurriedly checks that I'm properly lined up and, pushing a button, causes the restraints to reappear and wrap themselves around me. I smirk, enjoying the fact that we're working together, even if it's just at keeping him out of trouble.

Snake Eyes springs to attention moments later as Hawk walks in with Doc.

"At ease," Hawk says automatically.

"How is he?" Doc asks Snake Eyes, ignoring me.

Snake Eyes finger signs the letters P, T, S and D.

I roll my eyes. He thinks I have post traumatic shock disorder? What kind of fragile soul does he think I am?

"I do NOT."

Doc spares me a glance before turning back to Snake Eyes. "And physically?" he asks.

Snake Eyes shrugs and signs to suggest he ask me. Doc hesitates and Hawk, apparently taking pity on him, walks to me.

"By all accounts, you should be dead, son," he says.

"I know. Your team has my gratitude."

He nods. "I'm told you had a rib in your back nearly sliced in half, a different one in your chest cut about a third of the way through, a good sized hole through your lung…"

"He had a tension pneumothorax and hemothorax," Doc interrupts, obviously more comfortable detailing my injuries than actually talking to me. "Not to mention the sucking chest wound and the hole in his back. He wouldn't have survived long enough for Lifeline to get to him if he hadn't gone into that… what did you call it again, Snake Eyes?"

My eyes widen again – I went into the Phoenix Trance? I didn't even mean to, which means I would have pulled it off out of sheer reflex. If that's the case, I do think it gives me bragging rights for life. I turn to Snake Eyes, who answers both Doc's question and mine by signing that I used a technique called the Trance of the Sleeping Phoenix.

"Right, thank you," Doc continues. "The chip also sent him into cardiac arrest and sent his blood pressure soaring high enough to cause some ruptured veins, including one in the left brain hemisphere." He turns to me, looking much more comfortable after talking shop and establishing without the shadow of a doubt that I'd be dead if not for his and Lifeline's skills, and their willingness to apply them to me. "So, there's not much point asking you how you're doing. I would like you to tell me what hurts the most, however."

"My chest. Both where the sword was and more to the side," I answer. "I'm guessing the chest tube is still in? I keep running out of breath, too."

He nods and uncovers me, checking on said chest tube. He proceeds to examine the stitches on my chest and once he's satisfied with their condition, points a pen light in my eyes.

"And your head?" he asks.

"It's fine." I sigh, already getting fed up with the poking and prodding. I wish they'd leave me alone and let me think; at this rate, the Commander will have moved on again by the time I figure out where he is now. Snake Eyes clicks his tongue and both Doc and Hawk turn to him, obviously accustomed to the signal.

He signs that my head was hurting earlier, and reminds them that on another level, I'm not doing that great mentally. I roll my eyes at him: he's got some nerves calling ME a mother hen.

"I'm FINE," I protest. "I can handle flashbacks."

"Doc, go get Psyche-Out," Hawk orders. "We need to at least make sure we can trust whatever information Storm Shadow gives us."

Doc nods and heads out.

* * *

It's hours before I'm finally left alone with my brother again, who has apparently been assigned full-time guard duty. Between Doc examining me over and over again and Hawk and the Joe's shrink drilling me on seemingly random pieces of trivia about Cobra and everything else about my life, presumably to establish I'm neither lying nor delusional, I feel more than ever like Doc didn't actually do me any favour.

Just the same, I AM alive, which means I have a chance to at least repay GI Joe for freeing me and at the same time hurt Cobra. I intend to fully exploit the opportunity, especially since I already promised Hawk that I would do my best when Psyche-Out finally declared me fit to answer questions and Hawk asked me to give them Cobra's new location and any information I could remember on it.

I close my eyes to think, only for Snake Eyes to snap his fingers. I shoot him an annoyed look and he huffs before signing that he was going to offer to undo the restraints again, but that considering my attitude, he's reconsidering.

The nice thing about having students is that they usually end up teaching you a few things too. I treat Snake Eyes to the puppy dog look that Billy used on me countless times and that I only ever resisted through sheer will power.

Snake Eyes turns his head away and crosses his arms, as if to ward off an attack. He does, however, retract the restraints again. I sit up cautiously and stretch my limbs, sighing in contentment. Snake Eyes signs that he's very glad HE didn't have to resist Billy's version of that look for months and that he's rather impressed I managed to keep up discipline.

"You should have seen the enhanced version. He used to look like a mix between a puppy dog and a little kid watching a puppy dog getting horribly killed."

He signs that he did see it, and that he shall forever remain convinced that one single dose did more to convince Hawk to try and capture me alive than all of his own arguments. He adds to remark it's not a very dignified weapon, but that there's no arguing with the results.

My chuckle turns into a wince. Snake Eyes cocks his head and I wave him off, irritated beyond reason; I hate being looked after like some fragile little doll.

"I'm fine, laughing just doesn't feel that great right now. For crying out loud, will you stop worrying? I'm FINE. Now let me think if you want me to figure out where the new fortress is."

He nods, but asks me if I'm feeling okay about it all. I scowl at him.

"I've made a complete mess of everything, and I've spent the best years of my life serving Cobra and dragging my name and my honour through the mud, and I still haven't managed to avenge my uncle, and I got my OTHER uncle killed, and I haven't avenged HIM yet, either! How do you THINK I feel? The Hard Master has been waiting for about twelve years for me to just do this one simple thing for him… it's a good thing he's used to being disappointed in me." I trail off for a second before starting again before he can interrupt me with more stupid questions. "Now if you don't mind, I'd rather focus on repaying your team for my freedom right now; it's not like going after Zartan or Scrap Iron would accomplish much at the moment, and besides, at least now you also know who to kill."

He sighs and signs that he hopes he's not making things worse by telling me this, seemingly referring to something he's about to tell me. I roll my eyes at him – I already told him I needed some time to think, why did he choose now, of all times, to be needlessly chatty?

"I really don't think being melodramatic and building up suspense is a good use of my time right now, Brother."

He tenses and explains that he doesn't think the Hard Master is disappointed in me for not avenging him, going as far as reminding me my uncle never believed in vengeance. He even adds that he's sure his spirit is at peace now that the rest of my family knows I wasn't the murderer and that his last words were to ask the Soft Master to forgive me for whatever I'd end up doing to clear my name and avenge him, which he sees as a clear sign that his sensei was not angry with me, quite the opposite.

He's making way too much sense for my liking: if he's right, everything I've done would have been for nothing even if it had gone according to plan. On the other hand, I can't deny that it is tempting to believe I haven't been failing my uncle for all these years. I don't know what to think… I don't even know what I WANT to believe anymore.

I shake my head to chase the train of thoughts. I need to focus on the task at hand; I can't allow myself to get distracted by conjectures on just how unredeemable I am. I look away from Snake Eyes, calling back the memories of my last few weeks with Cobra, looking for documents that I may have caught a glance of and for overheard pieces of conversation… anything that could help me guess where the Commander's new fortress may be.

The next few days and nights go by much the same way, with the only difference being that I see less of General Hawk and Psyche-Out and can spend more time just thinking. Snake Eyes is replaced on occasion for a few hours, typically by a group of four or five soldiers who spend the whole time with their weapons pointed straight at me.

My chest tube is taken out on the third day, and I'm allowed out of my restraints every now and then to eat and use the bathroom, under heavy guard.

The clues to Cobra's new location emerge slowly, but by the fourth morning after my chest tube was removed, I know where we will find the new fortress.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry, not much action compared to the last chapter – or rather, there was a good bit of medical action, but Storm Shadow slept through it all so you missed it. On the other hand, for all of you who wanted to see more Snake Eyes, I think that's the most of him I've ever had in a single chapter. I do hope you enjoyed – writing dialogue for a non-talkative mute is always a wee bit challenging.

Speaking of Snake Eyes, I see him as having the social skills of a pet rock most of the time. He means well, but he's not very good at knowing what to do or say to make people feel comfortable around him, or better when they're down. It's a safe bet that most people wouldn't have chosen tell Storm Shadow it was all pointless anyway right after Tommy complained about having sacrificed his honour for years and still not having accomplished what he set out to do, but Snake Eyes thought Tommy needed to know his uncle was probably perfectly happy with him. It's highly debatable whether he was right or not.

Next time: where IS Cobra's new base? A hint: it is NOT a pyramid with a big ol' Cobra stuck on top of it. Another hint: it's still canon, in a way.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

"I know where they are," I announce.

I snicker as my brother jumps to his feet as though he's just received an electric shock. He signs to ask whether I'm serious. I nod, smiling.

He then signs to ask whether I'm sure or just have the beginning of a guess.

I roll my eyes at him. "Would I say that I know where they are if I only had a vague guess to offer? I don't have exact coordinates, but I'm sure of the general location."

He nods and practically skips to the right side of the bed to push the button to call a doctor.

Lifeline tears in a few seconds later and, after a quick glance at me and the various monitors I'm connected to informs him I'm not in need of any immediate assistance, he glares at Snake Eyes.

"Did we not specifically request that you only use that button for emergencies?" He asks.

Snake Eyes crosses his hands in front of his mouth as a useless reminder to the medic that he can't exactly call out to him. I snicker, and Lifeline rounds on me.

"And what's YOUR excuse? If you feel well enough to laugh, you could have just called out. That button is for EMERGENCIES." He repeats. "I thought your lung collapsed again!"

My eyes widen a bit. His heart rate IS elevated beyond what can be accounted for by his being startled by a sudden noise. I know he's been ordered to keep me alive, but his being genuinely concerned for a man who sent several of his teammates to his care or beyond is honestly a bit of a shock.

"You're my patient," he snaps, correctly interpreting my reaction. "I don't judge patients. What to do with you once you're patched up is Hawk's problem; mine and Doc's is to make sure he gets to have that problem. Now what do you want?"

"I was just telling Snake Eyes I have the location of Cobra's new head quarters for Hawk." I smirk at my brother. "I think he got a bit anxious to share the news and forgot, in his excitement, that that button was NOT our only way to get your attention and ask you to call your commanding officer."

Lifeline is already back in the infirmary's office, on the phone, telling someone what I just told him. I'm not sure he even heard what I said past my first sentence, but my brother definitely did: he huffs and signs that he supposes he shouldn't complain since making fun of him at least shows I'm getting back to my old self. I snigger at him half heartedly - my mind is starting to wander into memories of my time with Cobra again. I stop it the same way I have for the past week, by focusing on Cobra's new base, going through the various clues I've connected in my head once more while we wait for my brother's commanding officer.

We don't wait very long: Hawk comes in within minutes, looking and sounding more than a bit impatient. He sits next to the bed and undoes the restraints.

"Sit up, son," he says, smiling.

I resist rolling my eyes at the appellation and sit up. "You can call me Tommy," I suggest.

He nods. "All right then, Tommy. So, you know where Cobra's new headquarters are?"

I nod. "Antarctica."

He predictably looks doubtful. In fact, his smile vanishes and his eyes narrow as he wonders whether I'm fooling around with him.

"Hear me out…"

"Antarctica?" he growls, interrupting me. "This is no time for jokes, Storm Shadow. Are you serious?"

"Completely. Come now, you honestly think the fact that it's impractical would be a deterrent to the Commander? The man lives for scheming and planning. Hear me out, and if you still think I'm wrong after I've explained how I've reached my conclusion, just tell me why and I'll try again."

He sighs, leans back and rubs his forehead with his thumb and forefingers, as though he's having a headache. After a second, he opens his eyes again and stares into mine for a moment.

"All right," he sighs. "Let's hear it. Why do you think the Commander would have moved all his troops to the most remote location he could possibly find on the planet?"

I shake my head. "I never said he moved all of them there. He's also set up several manned outposts, one of which in Austin."

Hawk's eyes widen and from his pulse and breathing, it's easy to tell the idea of a Cobra HQ with only a part of the Commander's army defending it greatly appeals to him. He gestures for me to continue.

I start with all the clues I've gathered that point to somewhere very cold, from the time I overheard the Commander asking Destro about armoured snowmobiles, to the glance I caught of heated uniforms, to several overheard bits of conversations on building in subzero temperature, tunnelling through ice and frozen ground, and efficient heating.

Hawk stops me there, looking downright furious. "Bits of conversation overheard in passing? Glances? Is this a joke to you? Look, I know about your memory… in fact, I obviously know better than you think. I know you don't forget things you've learned, but I also know you do NOT have a photographic memory. You don't remember EVERYTHING you're exposed to without even trying. You're making all this up!"

Snake Eyes shifts his weight, looking distinctly uncomfortable - rightly so, since he's obviously the one who gave Hawk the information that his general is now so grossly misusing. I narrow my eyes at Hawk and make no effort at all to hide my irritation. In fact, my voice comes out as something between a growl and a snarl.

"I am most certainly NOT making anything up. Your team gave me back my freedom and, much to my continued amazement, managed to do so without killing me. I have every intention to repay my debt to you, and the most immediate thing I can do towards that is to tell you where Cobra's new base is, as promised. As for my memory," I shoot a glare at Snake Eyes, "like anybody else, I can sometimes remember things that I didn't think I had committed to memory by this funny little process called 'thinking very hard'. I was also left alone, for hours, whenever the brainwashing came undone and I spent a good chunk of those hours trying to remember anything useful I might have been exposed to in the previous few days. Most of what I've managed to remember now is actually things I remember remembering when I was sifting through a few days of memories at a time, while they were still fresh, if very foggy… I can barely remember vague images of what I've seen, so I can't read back any documents to you, or describe any map or blueprints. I think I've seen some, but I'm not even sure. Those uniforms are an exception; I was almost back to myself when I saw them, and I was puzzling over them while I was waiting to be turned into an obedient cross between a ninja and a potted plant again. Thankfully, I can remember the sounds better."

Snake Eyes nods and signs that my remembering sounds but not sights is not at all surprising. Hawk lets out a breath and calms down a bit, settling into an all-business scowl.

"Very well," he says. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on this, but you need to give me more than that. All you have up to date are clues that the Commander was, at some point, considering somewhere cold."

I nod and proceed to tell him about overheard conversations on secure communications between sites, about entire units leaving with a lot of equipment and about overheard conversations between troopers, asking each other where they were going.

"That's how I know there's an outpost in Austin," I specify. "It's the only location I remember being mentioned during those conversations, but I'm positive there were several more. The Commander has never divided his troops so much before – I'm sure he still wouldn't if not for the headquarters being in a very remote location. These outposts are the only way he can be tucked away safely, far from everything and from prying eyes, while still having people who can deploy relatively quickly where he needs them."

"How divided are we talking about, here? Would there be a lot of troops assigned to these outposts?"

I shake my head. "I'm sorry, I don't know. I remember being aware of a group leaving on three separate occasions, but I can't even remember how large they were, and I have no idea how many more left without my knowing about it. I can't imagine the Commander NOT having a very large number of soldiers with him to use as a shield against any possible attack, however. He always assumed Cobra Island would be invaded eventually, and he always assumed Springfield would be discovered and attacked eventually, so he WILL assume this new base is eventually going to be under attack as well, I'm sure of it."

Hawk nods, still frowning, but it seems to be more in concentration than anger now. I think he's starting to entertain the possibility that I'm right, just in time for me to share the three pieces of information that convinced me.

"I also overheard of an ongoing project by its codename several times. That codename was spoken relatively freely; I think most of the people using it had no idea what it was all about beyond their own small role."

From behind Hawk, Snake Eyes signs that building up melodrama and suspense is not a good use of his commanding officer's time, paraphrasing me from a few days ago. I try to scowl at him but I end up chuckling instead, only to fight back tears of joy the next second. The fact that he's on my side again, that we're brothers again, that I'm finally not alone anymore, is suddenly monopolizing my thoughts. Much to my displeasure, I prove Psyche-Out's diagnosis of 'fragile' for me right by having an insane amount of trouble getting my thoughts back on track. I really do wish I could just get a grip, already. I've been free from Cobra's brainwashing for days, there's no excuse for my head to still be so messed up.

I thankfully at least manage to stay in control so that as far as Hawk and my brother are concerned, all I did was chuckle briefly before looking serious again.

"The codename was Minus Nine-Oh," I finish.

Hawk's pulse and breathing accelerate slightly and his eyes widen. "The latitude for the South Pole. I have to admit, you're starting to convince me."

"I also remember pieces of conversations between the Commander and Destro, discussing the hole in the ozone layer and whether it could be exploited."

I stop again, purely for effect. Hawk's heart rate has picked up a bit more, and he's looking a bit distracted, presumably because part of his mind is already thinking about the logistics and the red tape involved in mounting an attack in Antarctica. Snake Eyes gestures me to go on.

"Finally, I distinctly remember the Baroness slipping once and starting to say Antarctica. The Commander cut her off mid word, so all that came out was Antar-, but between that and the other clues I've just told you about, I'm personally quite sure of my guess."

Hawk nods distractedly and sits back in his chair, not saying anything for a few minutes before he locks eyes with me again and grins.

"I think you're right," he says. "We could both be wrong, but it's definitely worth investigating."

* * *

The restraints never do go back on. After a brief conversation with Doc – called in by Lifeline at his request - to make sure there's no medical reason for my being immobilized any longer, Hawk calls an escort and I'm brought to a cell that, at first glance, would definitely be harder to escape than the one in Alcatraz. Thankfully, it also looks much more comfortable, if a lot less private: the front wall is completely transparent.

"We're still working out exactly what to do with you," Hawk says, sounding just shy of apologetic. "I suggest you don't try to escape, it would only make things worse."

I snort. "You do realize that I wouldn't just try, don't you?"

He glares at me.

I chuckle. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't; I promised I'd find that base for you, I can't very well take off on you until I know for sure that I've fulfilled that promise."

He nods curtly, orders a five men guard for me at all time and leaves.

* * *

It only takes a few minutes for it to become obvious I'm not going to enjoy the next little while. I'm trying to concentrate on remembering more clues that would either narrow down where the base is some more or launch me in a new direction, but I can't work up the motivation: I know I'm right, and I know I've remembered as much as I ever will on the subject.

This leaves me with nothing to focus on. Predictably, my mind starts wandering right back into the low points of my time with Cobra. Sounds and images from the past twelve years take over, from my actually enjoying a day out stealing an art piece, only to see a random building being blown up in Moscow thanks in part to that theft; to my killing soldiers for no other reason than the Commander was paying me to do it, or more precisely, was supposed to eventually pay me; to my allowing Mindbender to erase my memories again because they were unpleasant and because I was afraid of the bogeyman; countless hearts stopping from my murdering their owner in cold blood, for reasons that were really no good at all. I may be a ninja, but my family's always drawn the line at hit contracts, until, as he first put it, I sold my soul to the Commander. In a few short years, I've undone hundreds of years of my clan's sticking to their values and principles.

My mind finally comes back to the present when I hear Psyche-Out's name from one of the soldiers guarding me. I then realize I'm sitting on my bed with my head buried in my knees and hurriedly straighten up, horrified at how pathetically I was behaving and at the same time, rather glad Psyche-Out might come over: I'm confident he'll provide at least a little bit of distraction, even if of the irritating kind.

I hear his steps approaching a few minutes later and get up in an attempt to look and feel stronger and less, as he puts it, fragile. The memories are still replaying in my head, but at least they're not taking over my senses at the moment. Psyche-Out takes one of guards' chairs, noisily drags it until it's only a step away from the transparent wall of my cell and sits on it, legs crossed and hands joined at the fingers, observing me.

The memories instantly start dimming away as I focus all my willpower into not trying to punch him through the wall. He notices a change in my stance and smiles. It always feels like he's smiling benignly at a lab rat when he does that.

"Sorry for staring at you like this." He says. "I was told you were curled up in a ball, so I was trying to see if you were only standing again out of a misplaced feeling of needing to prove some kind of mental manliness. I'm afraid I can't tell, so I'll just ask: how are you feeling?"

I debate shortly between lying through the whole conversation and telling the truth. I settle on being honest solely because anchoring myself on the present reality seems more likely to keep the memories away than trying to make things up.

"I'm fine. I've just been rehashing some old memories."

He nods knowingly. "Nice memories?"

I glare at him.

"So… no," he says. "Well then, why are you rehashing them?"

"You're trying to make me say I can't help it."

"Indeed I am. So then, can you? Help it, that is?"

I glare at him again.

His heart rate speeds up a bit, but he gamely goes on. "No again, obviously."

My eyes narrow. "It doesn't matter," I snarl. I think I'd rather be left to myself after all.

"Yes it does. It matters to you because it bothers you, and it matters to me because I want to help you," he replies, so automatically that he sounds just like a recording. I feel my blood pressure rising.

"I don't need psychiatric help," I growl.

"Really?" He shrugs. "Could have fooled me, not to mention your guards. Big bad ninja, curling up in a ball because a, he's plagued by powerful flashbacks and b, they're taking his mind over so much that he doesn't actually know where he is or what he's doing anymore... seems to me like you're not doing that great."

My fists clench. If not for the fact he's a soldier and I've killed more than enough of my former brothers in arms as it is, I'd be finding out first hand how solid my wall is by trying to get through it to rip his head off. "I'm FINE," I insist.

He shrugs and gets up. "All right. Suits me, it's great for your guards' morale. I'd say they're going to be laughing over this little episode for days. The man who used to scare them so much, hugging himself and quivering because he can't control his own head… although I suppose not being in control isn't exactly a new experience for you. Maybe that's why you don't mind?"

I know perfectly well he's just trying to make me angry so I'll lose my inhibitions, but knowing he's egging me on doesn't make it any less effective. I feel the blood rushing to my face at the idea of the guards having a laugh at my expense and from there, it goes straight to my head.

I have no idea what I scream at him within the next several minutes. I'm pretty sure I've switched to Japanese a few times, and I'm reasonably certain that on the whole, I didn't make a whole lot of sense. By the time I stop for breath, he's sitting down again, legs crossed, hands joined at the fingers and perfectly calm, listening intently.

"I'm sorry I don't speak Japanese," he says, taking advantage of my temporary silence. "I think I've missed quite a few inventive insults in there."

I glare at him again, fists still clenched.

"Now," he continues. "I did catch, somewhere in all that, that you're able to keep the flashbacks at bay when you have a task to focus on. I would tend to agree: your mental state has gone downhill rather fast since you've given Hawk the information he was seeking this morning. You'll be happy to know that I was asked to request some more information from you."

"Such as?"

"Let's see…"

He takes a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opens it up. I expect him to take his sweet time doing it just to continue to irritate me, but he seems to have given up on this particular game now that I've already had the explosion he wanted.

"Insider Information on the following:" he reads. "Cobra Commander, Major Bludd, Destro, Baroness, Zartan, Tomax and Xamot, Mindbender, Venom…"

"He's dead," I interrupt. "Executed by a firing squad when the Commander suddenly got the impression he was plotting against him. Mindbender got the job of resident mad scientist in his stead."

"Yes, that's what we figured. There's more, and there is a list of vehicles and equipment, and he finally asks for what you know on general operations – fund raising, recruitment… that kind of thing. You're constantly recorded, so you can just speak the answers out loud. Do you need the actual list?"

I shake my head. I'm not sure why I didn't think of all that; even though some of what I know is out of date, it stands to reason GI Joe would still want me to share it.

* * *

The next ten days go by extremely slowly. I'm able to concentrate on giving out as much information on Cobra operatives, vehicles, weapons and operations as I can most of the time, but each time I run out of inspiration, my thoughts drift back towards every pointless crime I've committed and to the fact I have shamed myself and my family beyond repair.

My guards change regularly, but the changes don't make much difference: they all pretty much just ignore me anyway. I'm guessing they've been ordered not to mistreat me in any way since they usually refrain from so much as throwing me dirty looks, but they basically act as though my cell is empty.

There are exceptions, however: some of the higher ranked GI Joes – the ones who have codenames and personalized uniforms – fell quite within their rights to tell me exactly how they feel about me and what they think Hawk should do with me. Although they're never actually assigned as guards, I get such visitors once or twice a day.

Beach Head, for instance, stood in front of my cell for nearly two hours, reading me the list of Joes he figured I had personally killed and their obituary, going as far as describing the conversations he had with some of the next of kins following the soldiers' deaths, all of it in a slow southern drawl that eventually turned into screaming when he decided I wasn't reacting enough. I suspect my wall would have been covered with spit if his mouth hadn't been covered by his balaclava. He certainly demonstrated how solid it was by pounding on it with all his strength. The funny part is that he got angry because I was ignoring him, completely oblivious to the fact his little speech had simply made the flashbacks take over again, making me deaf to his presence until the sheer volume brought my mind back into the present. He was eventually ordered away and hasn't been back since.

He'd probably be spitting mad again if he found out that with all his screaming, he didn't make me feel nearly as bad as Wilkinson, or as he is known here, Stalker, did. My old sergeant didn't even have to yell or so much as get angry: he just stood there, calmly told me how disappointed he had been when he'd found out who I was, and asked me to explain why I did what I did. It's giving the explanation that was the worst part… the more I talked, the more it seemed like the last twelve years of my life were nothing but a series of incredibly bad decisions and poor excuses. I spent the rest of that day blabbering on about everything I knew of Cobra, repeating things I had already explained the previous days, not allowing myself to stop until I was ready to fall asleep.

Psyche Out also visits daily, much to my annoyance, and nothing I do seems to make him go away faster. Just to make things worse, I haven't seen my brother since I was put into this cell: from what I've heard, he's in Springfield with a small group of intelligence operatives, trying to gather whatever information, equipment or personnel that may have been left behind. I've also been unable to get any update on Billy's location or situation: most of the people I've asked don't even know who he is, and those who do don't know where he was sent and don't get status updates. I'd ask Hawk, but I haven't seen him either since I was brought here.

In the evening of the tenth day, Doc comes in, accompanied by ten heavily armed guards, to take out all my stitches.

The following morning, Hawk walks down towards my cell in the middle of my breakfast. I stop mid-bite and get up, too impatient to find out any news he might have to bother with the rest of my meal. I can't wait for a confirmation that the base is where I said it was, because once the Joes find it, they'll want to attack it and they have no reason to deprive themselves of an extra ninja. I'm literally aching to face Cobra, as much for sheer revenge as to make up for spending years assisting them in battle. Blood for blood. It won't get me my honour back, but it will certainly be a step in the right direction.

I go straight to the wall and filter out the noise coming from my guards to pick up the general's life signs and try and guess Hawk's mood. All I can tell, however, is that he's relatively calm. Even when he actually gets within my line of sight, he's unreadable right until he stops in front of me.

"I'm told you're inquiring about William," he says. "He's fine, you have my word on that."

I hold back a sigh of relief and nod. "Thank you. The base?"

He cracks a smile. "We found it. We never would have if not for you; the Commander has managed to make it invisible to just about every instrument. We ended up requisitioning an orbital telescope to take about a thousand X-Ray pictures of the continent, at various depths, and they finally revealed what would have looked like particularly dense patches of rocks if not for the fact they were shaped like rooms and corridors. We even planted an announcement in the media that NASA was doing some X-rays of the whole planet to test something, so that Cobra wouldn't realize we were scanning for them specifically in the event they detected the scans."

I smirk. "I'll be all too happy to help you dig him out of there," I say, not doubting for an instant that he's about to ask me just that.

He loses his smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't allow you to come along."

I frown. "Excuse me?"

His pulse accelerates. "I'm sorry. I know you'd love a chance to fight Cobra and face the Commander, but I honestly can't."

My own heart speeds up: he's serious. He actually intends to just leave me here while they go have a big showdown with Cobra. My fists clench.

"Why not?" I growl. "You know I'd be an asset! Is this revenge? Your way to make me pay for my years with Cobra? YOU CAN'T DO THIS! I…"

He cuts me off. "I don't have a choice. Bringing you along would be incredibly irresponsible on my part no matter which way I look at it. You could still be a double agent…"

"You can't seriously think that!" I snarl, doing my absolute best not to scream and throw a bona fide temper tantrum.

"I don't, no. But the stakes are too high here for me to go forward on a hunch. I have to play this one by the book or my career will be over and in all likelihood, so will GI Joe. The political ramifications of attacking Antarctica are INSANE... our records and our behaviour have to be squeaky clean, or we could lose anything we might gain by the attack and then some."

I'm so angry by now that I'm actually hyperventilating a bit and I can't think of anything more intelligent to say than a primal scream, so I content myself with glaring at Hawk.

"On top of the potential danger to the mission and the simple fact that I can't very well bring a civilian who also happens to be accused of several crimes to a major assault against his former employer, my whole medical staff is unified in telling me not to even think of letting you fight: Doc and Lifeline both feel it's too soon after your injuries and your surgery, and Psy…"

"WHAT? I don't even have stitches anymore!"

"Your lung will remain more likely to collapse than normal for another few weeks," he replies automatically, making it very obvious that he knew what I'd say and had the answer all ready. "That put aside, Psyche-Out also insists you should not be allowed to come."

"He just doesn't want to lose his subject!" I snarl, keeping myself from screaming again through sheer will power. "And I don't care how many people say I should stay here going crazy for my own good! I hereby waive all your responsibilities towards me. I'm volunteering, with the full knowledge that your medical staff thinks I shouldn't. I promise I won't hold you responsible if I'm killed."

"You don't currently have the capacity to make an informed and rational decision about this," he says, sounding once again like he's giving me a prepared answer.

My eyes widen briefly before they narrow to slits. Hawk's pulse creeps up again before settling back.

"That's a lie. I'm perfectly rational and you know it," I growl.

"You're suffering from hallucinatory flashbacks and have been witnessed on several occasions to stop reacting to real stimuli. You are also obsessed with vengeance and with reclaiming your honour, to the point that these two goals are the only reason you have any sense of self preservation at all at the moment. If I let you come along to this fight, you will push yourself and your luck until you get yourself killed. And…"

"I will NOT!" I protest.

…Which is perfectly true. I have no intention of dying before I've killed the Commander, Zartan, Scrap Iron and Mindbender, and before I even figure out how to reclaim my honour and restore that of my family's.

He waves off the objection before I even have a chance to elaborate.

"Psyche-Out is quite certain you will not take care of your own safety at all," he says. "And, whether your corpse blames me or not, the Law most certainly will, and I would blame myself. You're not coming, and that's final. As grateful as we are for all the information you've given us, you are still a prisoner, Storm Shadow. You don't get a say in this."

I glare at him, resisting the urge to boast that I'll just escape solely because that would only make it harder to do so. He turns to the guards, gestures them to follow and walks away with them, leaving me alone.

I blink at their backs. Did he just leave me unguarded? He turns back towards me after a few steps.

"The guards, to date, have been here for your protection," he informs me. "Now that you're a bit better able to defend yourself and that most of my forces are leaving, I have more urgent duties to assign them. Don't even think this will allow you to escape: this cell was designed with you in mind after your escape from Alcatraz, and Snake Eyes assisted in both the design and testing. I have his personal guarantee that you cannot escape."

I keep an impassive face and watch them all leave. So, Snake Eyes designed this cell… no wonder it's so secure. I haven't had any intention of escaping until now, partly because I really have nowhere better to go and partly because I was assuming - right up to the moment Hawk told me otherwise - that unless I misbehaved, GI Joe would jump at the chance of pitting two ninjas against Cobra instead of their usual one.

I still can't believe he's just leaving me here; I really thought he was smarter than that.

Just because I didn't think I would need an escape strategy, however, doesn't mean I didn't look for one – not doing so would have gone against my every instinct. I must commend Snake Eyes – the cell is very nearly perfect. On top of that, two of my escape plans won't work now that I don't have guards: playing possum for them to call the medics in and then taking said medics hostage requires someone to be there to see me play possum. Similarly, convincing my guards I'm about to escape before throwing the small concentrated smoke bomb in one of my hollow teeth, so that they'll come rushing in to stop me and thus let me slip out, requires guards to fool. Thankfully, my third plan works best with no guards around: the small diamond cutter in my other hollow tooth should be able to cut through the glass, unbreakable or not.

I pop it out, determined not to waste any time, and set to work.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Just in case you're wondering, I'm not saying Antarctica is a nice practical place for Cobra's new fortress… I'm just saying the Commander would absolutely go for it and actually figure out a way to pull it off (because it's just totally him), with Destro rolling his eyes and banging his head on various surfaces (with musical results) the whole time.

Next chapter: Storm Shadow is attacking a wall, GI Joe attacks Cobra… tons of action. :D


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Notes:**

I personally find it hard to believe, but this is in fact the final chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own GI Joe, I just really like Storm Shadow and have for most of my life.

A million thanks to WillWrite4Fics and Asterisk78 for the "beach-proofing", diamond-cutter design assistance and general consulting.

* * *

**Chapter 34**

The wall does turn out to be decently sliceable, despite its obvious resistance to impacts. Expecting an alarm to go off as soon as I actually pierce it, I carefully slice only partway through the whole shape I'm cutting out, then slice just a bit deeper into the groove, and again until I actually break through.

As I had guessed, an alarm goes off down the hall from my cell the second there's a pinprick hole in the wall. I quickly slice through the rest of the shape, push it out and scurry out. I can already hear guards running this way, but they're still several seconds away. I jump for the vent, punch the grid in the duct, hoist myself in and replace the grid just in time for the guards to bust in. I start sliding silently along the duct, which is more than wide enough for comfort, as is typical for large facilities. I'm betting my brother was very careful never to remark on the fact ninjas like to crawl in those for the express purpose of not losing the convenient out of sight passageways.

I start listening for engines, hoping to locate the aircrafts that are about to depart, and immediately pick up on my brother crawling towards me. My first reflex is to avoid him, but I quickly dismiss it: he knows better than to think I couldn't do just that if I wanted to, and although he would easily guess that the ductworks is where I'm most likely to be, he'd find me much quicker running in the hallways with heat vision goggles than crawling around up here with me. My conclusion is that he's just trying to meet me in a quiet spot, so I head straight for him rather than avoid him, hoping I'm not underestimating his propensity to do things the hard way just to show off.

He's obviously startled when he sees me: his heart rate spikes, he gasps and he even jerks a bit backwards. I wave at him, smirking, thinking he just didn't realize I was this close. He signs jerkily to ask me how in the world I managed to get out of my cell, looking very much like he'd be stuttering if he were speaking.

My eyebrows shoot up, but rather than attempt to answer with signs, I point at the vent between us. He shakes his head and gestures me to follow, turning around in the duct.

He leads me two air vents away from where we were before removing the third one and dropping down. Not hearing anyone else than the two of us in the vicinity, I follow and find myself in a small storage room devoid of any window and lit by an old buzzing neon fixture.

"I used my diamond cutter," I whisper, finally answering his question. "If you didn't know…" I interrupt myself because he just signed to ask me what diamond cutter I'm talking about, going so far as informing me that I was stripped searched.

"The one in my tooth." I sigh, annoyed at his making me state the obvious. "What were you…?" I stop again: he just took a sharp breath in surprise and he's signing again, this time expressing that he thought I was joking when I told him about that, years ago, and asking how I could possibly fit a diamond cutter with a useable handle in a hollow tooth.

I sigh again.

"I don't know why you'd even think that, but no, I wasn't joking." I show him my finger, where I still have it attached. "It goes into an artificial tooth, hollow through the root, that replaces my wisdom tooth and the one next to it and that is about as large as the two of them together were. It's sculpted to look like two teeth, and the only time I was at a dentist that cared to ask why I had such big artificial teeth – I have another one on the other side - I told him it was because I wanted to look like I had wisdom teeth. He either believed me or decided I was too crazy to argue with."

He's bent down while I was talking and has been turning my hand this way and that, staring at the rubber elastic band attached to a small pointy diamond. He signs to ask how it doesn't keep sliding aside or tipping when I put pressure on it.

"The clasps holding the diamond are connected to a piece of metal shaped to match the curve of my finger, inside the rubber at the base of the diamond. That sits against my finger and helps keep it stable. Between that and the fact the band is tight and rubber doesn't slide against skin very well at all, it works just fine," I explain impatiently. "Now why were you crawling through the ducts towards my cell if you didn't know I was out?" I'm tempted to also remark the alarm should have given it away just to badger him a bit, but I know he'll just explain the alarm was meant to go off whenever I TRIED to escape and that he assumed I wouldn't actually succeed, so I don't bother.

He chuckles silently and signs to ask who's asking silly questions now. My eyes widen.

"You were coming to break me out?"

I try to act insulted, but I can't; much to my dismay, I'm completely choked up: his first loyalty has always been with the army, not with me or our clan, so I'm moved well beyond reason that he'd go against his superiors for me.

He nods and signs to express surprise that I'm not telling him off for insulting me. The prompt finally snaps me out of the shock enough to force a chuckle.

"One WOULD expect you to know better, after Alcatraz," I say, smirking. My cool composure is an act, but if he notices, he doesn't remark on it.

He signs to point out this escape is much more impressive and even adds, with far too much enthusiasm for me to take him seriously, that he's in awe and that my evasion skills truly exceed his. I play along and buff my nails on my prisoner's fatigues.

He performs a mock bow and signs that he supposes he'd only be insulting me further were he to tell me about the unlocked cargo hold on the third plane from the entrance in the first hangar to the left from this room, or to inform me that the grey uniforms behind me are the ones the mechanics wear. He even apologizes for the presumption which made him believe putting winter gear and weapons for me in said cargo hold was at all even helpful to a Master like me.

Normally, I'd snort and confirm that it's indeed insulting, but that I'll forgive his foolishness if he begs me to. Today, maddeningly, I lose my smirk instead, back to being far more touched than I'd care to admit.

"Why?" The question is out before I know I was about to ask it. I just barely manage to resist slamming my hands to my mouth and I occupy them by picking an uniform in my size from the shelf and starting to change.

He signs that he won't deny me a chance for vengeance if I still want it, and won't deny his team my help.

I swallow and beat back yet another overflow of emotions. I open my mouth to thank him and acknowledge that I owe him one, but suddenly realize that I don't really know whether I do or not. It's not that I'm not grateful, but between my saving his life; trying my best to save him for three years despite the fact he didn't need it; his setting me free but doing it by running me through because I was about to kill his girlfriend; my getting him adopted into my family and put through training best described as hell for a few years; his actually thinking I was guilty but not right away, to the point of sparing me when he first found me but trying to kill me later... I honestly have no idea whether I do, in fact, owe him one or whether we're even, or even whether he still owes me. I quickly decide that I'm quite happy with that state of affairs.

"Thank you," I say as I finish changing. "I don't know which one of us owes the other anymore… as it should be between true brothers."

I'm hoping he'll agree we are beyond debts towards one another, and I'm confident enough in his character to know that he won't object, but instead, his shoulders drop in an exaggerated sag and he pretends-searches his pockets before signing that he's very sorry but that he has no butter to offer me to go with that corn.

As another sign that we truly are brothers, I intentionally use his head as a boost in retaliation for that crack as I jump back into the air ducts, hurrying towards the engines I can hear to the left of the room.

* * *

One of the things ninjas are known for is stealth; to hear some people talking about it, you'd think we can somehow become transparent and literally fade into the wall, or contort ourselves in such a way as to be able to hide behind the smallest objects.

We can't do either, obviously. Even the best contortionists still have at the very least a head that can't really be bent on itself, and Zartan's cloak was the first working one I'd ever seen. We do, however, have a number of tricks that can indeed give the impression we're not there when we are. The most obvious one is hiding in the shadows; a lesser well known one is using the fact the human eye is not naturally drawn to immobile objects; old-fashioned hiding behind objects or people is popular too, as is simply positioning ourselves above people's line of sight to take advantage of most people's tendency not to look upwards. All those have the very distinct disadvantage that they only hide a person from sight; to someone with my hearing and training, they don't have much appeal due to the fact they don't work at all when used against me. I was still trained in them, but I tend to avoid relying on them whenever possible. As my brother obviously realized since he led me to a storage room containing mechanics' uniforms, I much prefer the other old standby of ninjas: disguise.

I drop out of the ducts as soon as I don't hear anyone around, adopt a slumped and drooped posture to keep my head low, and stroll to the hangar at a fairly fast pace, in essence trying to look like an antisocial but busy mechanic. Opting for a disguise rather than trying to hide turns out to be a very wise choice: the hangar is extremely well lit, crawling with people, and the ceiling is too high to be of any use: I'd be in mid-air too long if I dropped down from it and I doubt I'd be able to land silently.

I enter the hangar unperturbed, and everybody is busy enough to pay no attention to the slumped mechanic with his hat halfway down his face. I go straight to the third plane and stare at the wheels to keep my head low while walking around it to the cargo door; there are several Joes who have seen me without a mask in the past few days, and I can't exactly depend on all of them not being able to tell who I am if they get a good look at me. Therefore, I don't intend for any of them to get that good look.

I poke around the plane for a few seconds, open the cargo hold, and as soon as I get an opening when the few people who have me in their line of sights happen to be looking away, I slip inside it and close it back behind me.

I have to search a bit for the promised winter gear and weapons, but finally find one of the big boxes of gear is empty safe for a dozen of shuriken, half a dozen throwing knives and one snow suit with accompanying head, foot and hand gear. I grin and, taking advantage of the fact nobody else is in the plane yet to hear the noise, gear up and settle in the box. I know my brother wouldn't send me into battle with nothing but a few throwing weapons and therefore, it's an easy guess that he's simply kept whatever else he's prepared for me on himself so as not to make it more difficult for me to squeeze inside the crate. The suit feels warm, but not overly so - it's obviously designed to not become too uncomfortable when the wearer is temporarily inside and in any case, the cargo hold is bound to get very cold once we're in the air.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Snake Eyes is among the Joes who board this particular plane. Stalker is also with him and is obviously in charge of our little group since he's the one directing everyone and who eventually gives the order to take off.

The flight is uneventful. I try listening in to the various conversations, but they're not interesting enough to hold my interest and I soon find myself fighting flashbacks yet again.

I clench my teeth, furious with myself. I can't be doing this for the rest of my life; I can't keep zoning out and working myself up to complete despair each time I don't have something immediate and urgent to focus on. I need to figure out a way to stop it, and I need to do it now; I can't afford to lose sight of where I am and mindlessly make any kind of noise that would give me away, especially while we're still close enough to the Pit to turn around. My plan is to reveal myself while we're still in the air, counting on the close quarters to make the option of trying to shoot me on sight less tempting and to encourage some kind of dialog where I can make it clear I'm not a threat to my flying companions. With luck, they won't even try to restrain me again and just accept my help, saving me the trouble of escaping their custody one more time.

I wish I'd been able to think myself into considering that getting rid of the flashbacks was urgent days ago: it works wonderfully. I hear the pilot announcing we're almost there without any more flashback or self-pitying thoughts bothering me. As a welcomed bonus, I've also been able to determine an immediate course of action: even though nothing I can do will completely erase the stain I have inflicted on my clan and myself, I can still make it a bit paler by helping to cripple Cobra and I can most definitely start avenging my uncles: I expect Zartan and his dreadnocks will have refused to come here and will therefore be manning one of the outposts, but the Commander IS here, and he's ultimately responsible for both their deaths. I can find Zartan – and if necessary, Scrap Iron - later, and since Mindbender is only for my own personal satisfaction, he can wait if I don't happen to run into him here.

I'm just about to casually get out of my box and walk into the cockpit when Snake Eyes jumps to his feet and storms into the cargo hold, obviously pretending he just heard me or sensed my presence. Stalker and another soldier I don't know by name follow. I figure the easiest way to play along is to pretend I was asleep, so I close my eyes and let my body go limp in order to provide a believable waking-up-with-a-start reaction when Snake Eyes 'finds' me.

He kicks the box fairly hard and whips the cover off. I jerk and open my eyes to see him with his fists clenched into claws, Stalker scowling wide-eyed next to him and the other Joe looking astonished. I make a show of stretching and smile sleepily.

"Are we there yet?" I ask, lazily scratching the back of my head.

Snake Eyes takes a sharp intake of breath and grabs me by the collar, lifting me out of the box.

"Oh, I'm sorry... was that YOUR box?"

He ignores the quip, bends both of my arms behind my back at such an angle that I'm forced to stoop, shows off he has big hands by holding both my wrists in one of them – not very securely however, I'm having to help hold my arms in place - pulls my hair to make me tilt my face upward and turns me to face Stalker.

"Sergeant Wilkinson," I greet, smiling widely. "I'd salute, but…"

"How did you get in here?" Stalker asks in a growl. "Where's the stuff that was in this crate?"

"Here and there," I reply vaguely, shrugging. I could make a few guesses, but I don't actually know where Snake Eyes poked the gear he took out of the crate I was hiding in, and the last thing I want is to give Stalker the slightest suspicion that this is the case.

Snake Eyes kicks the other big crate, prompting one of three other Joes, who have just come in from the passenger area to see what was going on, to check it.

"There's definitely more in there than I packed," he says, "but there's no way he would have fit everything from that crate into this one."

"Someone check under the seats," Stalker sighs, looking around the cargo area for other hiding spots. "Behind the crates, too," he adds upon noticing they're not flush against the wall.

Two of the Joes do as he requested, and as proof that he's good at finding stuff, not just people, both find more of the missing gear. Snake Eyes lightly morse presses "done" on my wrist, just in time for Stalker to turn his attention back to me.

"Where else?" he asks. "Just tell us, we don't have time for games."

"That's it. And you don't need to take my suit off, I brought it on board myself," I lie. "You're not short any, unless of course you didn't pack enough."

He lets out a long breath, visibly trying to relax.

"You people start gearing up. If we have to count anyway, we might as well save some time," he says, addressing his team. "Now," he adds, turning back to me and giving me his trademarked don't-mess-with-me look. "How the devil did you get on board? The hangar was crowded, there's no WAY you snuck by everyone, and don't expect me to take 'I'm a ninja' as an answer!"

I snigger. "I don't know why you even need to ask, it's so obvious… I simply spied on the door for a few minutes, long enough to see what the mechanics wear, then I poked around storage rooms until I found some paperclips, the right uniforms and some snow suits. After that, I just walked in with the snow suit under my arm like I was just asked to bring one, chose a plane at random, picked the lock on the cargo hold and climbed in." I chuckle. "With all due respect, saying 'I'm a ninja' would have been quicker."

He narrows his eyes at me. Snake Eyes's heart accelerates slightly.

"You picked this plane at random?" he asks, clearly doubtful.

I roll my eyes at him. "You think I picked the plane on which the one person who can subdue me would end up on purpose? And how would I even have known which plane that would be? I picked a plane that was still empty, so it's not like I heard him on board; I haven't quite yet mastered the art of hearing people that aren't there."

Stalker glances at Snake Eyes, who cocks his head at him, pretending not to realize Stalker is wondering whether he somehow helped me, presumably to demonstrate the very idea is completely alien to him. I decide that it's time I give Snake Eyes an excuse to rough me up a bit more and help him with his pissed-off-and-innocent act.

I snort. "He thinks you helped me, Brother," I chuckle, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the appellation. "He actually thinks you built a cell that could contain me and that you could prevent me from coming here, and so, that you must have broken me out and helped me stow away. Aren't you going to tell him the truth? That you didn't care enough for me to help me, that you felt no obligation to try and make up for trying to kill me on several occasions, that I'm just a much better ninja than you are and therefore didn't NEED help? That you're perfectly happy letting me rot in jail while you go claim the blood that I'm entitled to, that you think treating the brother who saved your life like a criminal DOG is appropriate? That…"

I of course don't mean any of what I'm saying: I more than deserved the way he treated me while I was with Cobra, and although I wouldn't have expected him to, he DID help me. I probably would have managed anyway, but the point is that he chose to assist me and disobey his superiors. I'm far from angry with him, which is why I'm doing my best to make sure he gets away with it.

Judging from his relaxing pulse and breathing, he understands what I'm doing, which honestly doesn't make the knee he plants and digs in my kidneys, interrupting me, any less painful. Between that push forward and the fact I could be reasonably expected to suddenly be more desperate to get out of his grip, I judge it believable that I'd escape his hold and slip free to face him, glaring at him. I'm about to shout nonsense at him some more, but he jumps at me and lands two punches before I recognize the training pattern he's using and start countering.

Despite the fact I know the pattern, I'm having to concentrate on following it because he's doing it about ten times faster than I ever have. I still manage to twist my face into what I'm pretty sure will be seen as extreme anger by the other Joes and will earn me a lot of jibes later on from my brother.

We don't have to keep going very long, which is probably a good thing: Snake Eyes' heart rate is already creeping up, demonstrating that even he can't move that furiously for long. We haven't even gone through the full pattern once when Stalker screeches an order to stop.

Snake Eyes immediately switches to a defensive stance and, out of reflex, I actually stop too.

"Ooooh…" I coo in a praising voice, "good boy, soldier. And here I don't have any treats for you. Maybe Stalker does?"

I turn to my former Sergeant as I say it, looking at him questioningly. He narrows his eyes at me but, remarkably, still stays calm.

"Swear to me you won't make trouble and I won't get Snake Eyes to break all four of your limbs."

I roll my eyes at him. "I came to help. What exactly would I gain by 'making trouble'?"

He glares at me without answering, obviously waiting for my word. I sigh.

"I swear I won't 'make trouble' for you," I recite. "Happy?"

He doesn't answer, turning to Snake Eyes instead. "I'm going to call Hawk. You keep an eye on him, and don't beat him up unless you have to."

I snort.

"Insults don't count," Stalker specifies, walking out of the cargo area and back into the passengers' area, followed by the other Joes.

Snake Eyes visibly relaxes once the door is closed, but turns to me and signs to ask whether I meant any of what I said. I roll my eyes at him, shake my head and sign that the only part I meant was the bit about being a better ninja than he is, and that I can't believe he even needs to ask.

He nods and sits down, infuriatingly failing to react to my boast. I sit down too and concentrate on Stalker's voice as he greets Hawk, who's just taken his call and advised him that he also has Flint, Duke and Beach Head on the line.

"We got a ninja stowaway, sir," Stalker says, sounding somewhere between irritated and embarrassed.

"The spook? He's on your plane? Chuck him out, would you? I always wanted to see if ninjas could fly for real."

I instantly recognize the voice as Beach Head's and smirk. I can't fly, but I can certainly keep people from throwing me out of a plane. I think I rather like the nickname "spook", though.

"We're not executing our informant," Hawk snaps. He doesn't sound nearly as amused as I am. "Any damage, Stalker? How did you find him? Is anyone hurt?"

"Snake Eyes found him in one of our crates. We don't seem to be missing anything; he stashed the stuff around the plane. Nobody's hurt."

"Snake Eyes?" Beach Head asks. He sounds horrified to the point of denial, I'm guessing because he just got the idea that Snake Eyes may have assisted me. "Don't tell me he…"

"Snake Eyes had nothing to do with this," Stalker interrupts, obviously sharing my guess. "You have my personal guarantee on that: I practically had to pry them apart. It's just a lucky coincidence for us that Snake Eyes is here to keep him under control."

I look at Snake Eyes and pretend to clap at his performance. He answers by buffing his nails on his chest, but his breathing and his pulse betray a good bit of discomfort. I suppose it's not surprising: although he's doing it partly for their own good, he is deceiving his team mates. I've known him to feel guilty over less.

"Well, I don't want you to turn around," Hawk says, musing out loud. "It'd make no sense to delay the attack because we'd only risk Cobra somehow finding out, possibly by detecting us, and therefore lose any kind of element of surprise, and I don't want to attack without one of our units."

"I doubt it'd be wise to try and drag Storm Shadow back to the Pit, anyway," Stalker says, in my opinion quite wisely. "Flying for hours locked in a plane with an angry and unstable ninja just doesn't agree with my instincts."

I roll my eyes at being called unstable again and Snake Eyes snickers silently. I sign at him that in case he hasn't noticed, Stalker doesn't think he'd be able to keep me under control. He huffs and signs to ask whether I'd care to find out whether he could. I snort and sign that he can't even design a cell capable of holding a real ninja and that I don't wish to humiliate him further. He shakes his fist at me, but he doesn't quite manage to stiffen a chuckle. I start paying attention to the conversation again when it resumes – they've all been thinking silently since Stalker's last comment.

"Can Snake Eyes tie him up good enough to leave him in the plane?" Beach Head suggests.

"He'd have to pretty well immobilize him completely AND tie him up very tightly, which would partly cut circulation to his extremities. Between that and not being able to move at all, he wouldn't conserve much heat even with the snow suit," a new voice says.

"Flint's right. He'd be dead by the time we come back, or at the very least, we'd have to amputate his feet and his hands," Stalker says, sounding, surprisingly enough, just a teeny bit like he cares.

Snake Eyes signs to ask whether someone suggested I be left tied up in the plane, reminding me he can only hear one half of the conversation since Stalker doesn't have the speaker phone on. I sign the words for Beach and for Head in answer.

"Win-win!" Beach Head replies to Stalker's answer, barking a laugh.

"We are NOT killing him, OR torturing him." Hawk sighs. "Did he say what he wanted, Stalker?"

"He says he wants to help. He also mentioned, while screaming various insults at Snake Eyes, that he wants to collect some blood and doesn't want Snake Eyes to get to do it instead."

"Figures," Hawk answers. "So, we can't send him back and we can't keep him locked up. We agree so far? I'm open to suggestions."

"I still think we can lock him up," Beach Head objects. "Just keep one of the planes heated up."

"That would be like a beacon for Cobra," Flint remarks. "It's bad enough we wouldn't be able to hide his heat signature while it lasts, if we keep the whole plane warm, we might as well gift wrap him."

My eyes widen at the thought – he's right, and if he hadn't thought of it, the Joes just might have done that, and… I shiver violently and wince, suddenly seeing myself back in Mindbender's lab and, subsequently, bowing to the Commander, on the verge of tears because he's pretending to be angry with me.

I take a deep breath and force myself to focus again on the conversation.

"… guards with him," someone just suggested. I recognize the voice as the one who was interrogating Snake Eyes on the way back from Switzerland: Duke.

"That only brings us back to wasting men," Hawk objects.

"I'm out of ideas," Stalker admits. "Technically, he's still a potentially very dangerous criminal in our custody."

I scowl at the door.

"I also have my top three medical staff telling me he's in no condition to fight," Hawk says. "The problem is, I'm not sure what else I can do. He COULD stay with me, under guard."

I snort quietly at that one. Considering half the reason they're talking about not letting me fight is that I'm still 'potentially' dangerous, leaving me with the highest ranking officer present wouldn't make a lick of sense, guards or no guards. The fact is, guards would only result in someone being used as a human shield as I get out, potentially Hawk himself. In a twist that would probably give him a conniption if he knew, Beach Head actually agrees with me.

"With all due respect, sir, have you gone CRAZY?" he barks. "I am NOT leaving him alone with you unless you got at least three dozen guards, including Snake Eyes and me!"

"I have to vote against that option too," Stalker says.

"Then what do you suggest?" Hawk asks.

Stalker hesitates. "Well, sir… the fact is, we know he's not going to join Cobra again."

Snake Eyes perks up slightly at that, obviously sharing my impression that the conversation just turned to my advantage.

"Oh yeah?" Beach objects.

"Yes," Hawk says, "we do. Psyche-Out is completely positive on that, and I can tell as well from talking to him. And as angry as they might be with each other right now, we also know Snake Eyes is vouching for him. But, Stalker…"

"I realize Doc, Lifeline and Psyche-Out are all saying he'd be in danger, but he's obviously volunteering, and he's not really leaving us any other options right now."

Hawk doesn't reply, by all appearances thinking it over. Duke pipes in instead.

"He's right, sir. To be perfectly honest, we know we're going to have casualties in this battle. With two ninjas on our side, we'll have less - even if in the end, Storm Shadow ends up among them."

I roll my eyes at that. Snake Eyes cocks his head questioningly. I sign at him that Duke wants to let me fight so I can prevent some Joes from getting hurt until I get myself killed. He shrugs, too superstitious to dismiss the possibility and risk jinxing me. I scoff at him, pretending to be insulted, but he just shrugs again. After another thinking pause, Hawk's voice comes up again.

"Beach Head, your thoughts?"

"I can't argue the logic, but… I don't like giving him what he wants, and I still don't think we can trust him."

Nobody says anything for a few seconds, until Hawk speaks again.

"I have the choice between making Snake Eyes guard him along with more of my best men, therefore diminishing our forces and in all likelihood, increase our casualties and maybe even lose this fight, or let him fight and gain an extra fighter, who happens to be one of the bests in the world. The way I see it, it'd be incredibly irresponsible on my part NOT to use him now that he's here, no matter what the risk to himself. Stalker, bring him in and put us on speaker phone."

"Yes, sir, but just so we're clear, you do realize he's heard all this? Including YOUR side?"

I don't hear the answer, I'm laughing too hard. It's not that funny and I know it, but I'm feeling downright giddy – I'd probably laugh at anything right now. I barely manage to calm down by the time Stalker walks back to the door and opens it, showing me into the passenger area. I grin at him and walk in. He rolls his eyes at me, but his lips almost curve into what could, with some imagination, be interpreted as a very slight smile.

"He's here, sir."

"Storm Shadow, you told me not long ago that you considered the information you gave us as a start in repaying us for your life and your freedom. You're getting a chance to pay back a bit more today."

"No, I'm not: this is for me. I WANT to fight."

"I didn't mean by fighting," Hawk says. "We want the Cobra Commander alive."

My eyebrows shoot up. He can't be serious. "Why?" I ask. My tone is just a bit more murderous than I meant it to be.

"If we have the Commander captive, part of Cobra will remain loyal to him and therefore, it will take longer for someone else to take over the organization completely. If he dies, someone else will step in almost right away after, at best, a short skirmish between whoever that person is and a few others vying for position. With the actual Commander still alive, the division will be more profound and more fundamental. This decision is straight from the top, Storm Shadow. Arguing with me over it will do you no good."

I narrow my eyes, but I can't think of anything to say, unless you count curses.

"Snake Eyes. You will stay with Storm Shadow and keep him in line," Hawk concludes. "We land in a few minutes, get him some weapons."

Snake Eyes nods and salutes, of course unseen by Hawk, but Stalker answers for him.

"Order accepted, General. Stalker out."

He cuts the line then, leaving me snarling towards the intercom as Snake Eyes drags me back towards the cargo hold. I shake him off irritably just as Stalker asks him whether he really needs privacy to give me his spare swords.

Snake Eyes signs that I specialize in throwing weapons and since he has those hidden on him, he does want to give them to me in private. He adds, towards me, that if he breaks one of his swords and has to do without because he lent me his spare ones, he will NEVER let me hear the end of it.

As furious as I am with Hawk, I'm not about to fail playing along and thus get my brother in trouble. I am in a foul enough mood to do it as irritatingly as I can, however.

"You mean I'd never SEE the end of it, right? What do you care, anyway? It's not like I'm borrowing your precious guns and besides, if you're clumsy enough to break a sword, you DESERVE to have to do without."

While I'm saying this, he's pushing me back in the cargo hold. He closes the door behind us and signs at me to shut up before he decides to punch me to increase the level of realism.

"Very well, Brother," I say, making my tone sound calmer with each syllable. "Apology accepted. You ARE right, this is no time to be fighting amongst ourselves."

He sighs, takes a deep breath, and signs to ask whether I need more knives, shurikens, or other small weapons, getting back to business.

"Half a dozen knifes and a dozen shuriken will be fine, but only if it doesn't leave you with less," I reply, citing the actual amount he left me to signify that no, I don't need more, while making it sound like he hasn't given me any yet.

He signs that he doesn't use them all that much and that he's got plenty left. He then hands me two handguns in their holster strap and a box of ammo, signing the guns are loaded and have built-in dampeners.

I strap them on with a smirk.

"Gunslinger," I sneer. "So much for being silent and deadly ninjas."

He doesn't reply, busy undoing a chest strap on which are secured two swords. He hands it to me before signing that as much as he likes using throwing weapons for sport, the guns allow him to kill faster and efficiency ranks higher than fun when his team mates are in danger.

I scowl at him for the lecture, but I don't push the issue, mainly because he's right: if someone ever cared to make a numbered list of ninja rules, using whatever weapon you can that allows you the easiest victory would rank pretty close to the top. I attach the swords on myself, unsheathe them for a test run, adjust the strap a little, and try again a few times, varying the angle of my body, adjusting as I go until I'm satisfied they're positioned just right.

I doubt the whole routine took me more than two minutes, but by the time I'm finished, Snake Eyes is leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, somehow conveying resigned patience.

The second I'm done, he signs to ask me what I intend to do about the Commander.

I frown. I honestly don't know… annoyingly, I agree with the logic behind wanting him alive. There would be some short lived chaos within Cobra if he actually died, but the troops would quickly rally under the strongest would-be leader, most likely Destro. It's debatable whether anyone would even bother to oppose him. If, on the other hand, the Commander remains alive, you'll have a few people trying to take control on his behalf, intent on organizing a rescue or at least pretending that's their intention, and you'll have a few more trying to take control altogether and forget about the Commander. The troops won't know who to side with because most of them will be too afraid of the Commander returning to side with anyone who's trying to actually supplant him and won't know which brown-nosed would-be rescuer to trust.

As logical as wanting him alive is, however, I still want and need to kill him.

Snake Eyes observes me thinking for a moment, and signs that I need to decide what my priority is: my honour or vengeance.

The edge of my vision instantly tints with red and I swear I can hear my blood boiling. I snatch the fabric around his neck and if he hadn't already been against the wall, I would have slammed him on it.

"NO," I growl. "That's… NO. You… NO!"

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts enough to form actual sentences.

"You have no right to ask me to choose!" I hiss. My lips curl up in a snarl because the sound reminds me of the Commander, and I force my voice back into a low growl instead. "Killing them, killing HIM, is PART of reclaiming my honour. I HAVE to avenge my uncles. You KNOW THAT!"

He forces my hands off himself and pushes me a step back to reply more comfortably. I expect him to sign, but he takes out a notepad instead and scribbles away for a minute before ripping the page off and handing it to me.

_I already reminded you, Sensei did not believe in vengeance. He never wanted it. Finding out you were innocent, when he had spent the last few years trying to find and kill you, cured the Soft Master of any taste for it as well. They don't need you to do this._

_I can understand that you still want revenge for yourself, that's why you need to decide how badly you do. You know Hawk is right, I can tell you do. The honourable thing for you to do at this point is to do as you were asked and take the Commander prisoner without killing him. So you need to choose: vengeance or honour._

I glare at him and rip the note in two without consciously trying, just from my hands clenching into fists while still holding the paper. He stares right back at me, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed again. He'd appear completely calm, nearly bored, if his heart rate wasn't very slightly elevated.

"That's not fair;" I snarl, "you don't KNOW whether my uncles need this or not." I know I'm lying even as I say it. He's right about that much at least, and we both know it.

He cocks his head, silently asking me whether I really believe that. I throw the two pieces of the note at him.

"I swore I'd avenge both of them," I whisper harshly. "I've gone too far to give up now!"

He signs to request I think about it.

"What will you do if we find the Commander?" I ask. "Will you stand in my way?"

He sighs and signs that if we find him and I still decide to kill him, he will not stop me.

I was ready to scream at him, expecting him to inform me he would indeed prevent me from harming the Commander. His actual answer leaves me speechless for a second, and when I talk again, I only manage to sputter a thank you.

He nods and, having taken care of both arming me and torturing me by forcing me to try and make an impossible choice, starts gearing up, first removing his weapons, then slipping into his snowsuit, and finally adjusting all his weapons again.

"I did that much faster, you know... AND more quietly."

He signs irritably that he has more weapons to re-arrange than I did and finishes by putting on his gloves. He looks at me for a moment when I chuckle and finally, chuckles silently as well, signing to call me an idiot. Despite the fact the gloves are as thin as they can be and still protect our fingers from falling off in the cold, he has to exaggerate his signs and appropriately enough, still looks as muffled as we're all going to sound through our scarves.

I keep myself from actually saying it so he won't accuse me of being a cornball again, but the exchange, as silly as it was, was enough to make me realize just how much I've missed his friendship.

* * *

We go back to the passengers' area once he's ready, just in time to strap in as the plane lands.

"How far away is the base?" I ask of nobody in particular.

"Two hours drive to the south. Judging from Cobra Island, just air-bombing the fortress would be useless, so we're also mounting a ground attack to infiltrate and if we're going to do that, we may as well land a safe distance away rather than risk getting shot down," Stalker answers, talking very fast but still volunteering the information. I nod a thank you as he opens his radio and asks whoever may be listening whether the vehicle transports have arrived.

"All here," Duke's voice answers. "No sign of activity from Cobra. The new stealth screens are apparently working. Is Storm Shadow there? Ask him how Cobra's anti-stealth technology is. I'm kind of worried we're heading for a trap, to be honest. This is going a bit too well."

"I'm fine, thank you," I reply with a chuckle as an answer to his inquiry about Cobra's anti-stealth measures. "Other than me, I've never known them to use anything particularly outstanding, unless of course they've acquired something in the past year."

"He says they relied mostly on him, Duke. Basic anti-stealth otherwise. We may just have slipped by them."

"Nothing we can do about it if we didn't, either way," Duke concludes. "You have vehicles 16 to 19. Good luck."

* * *

The drive goes smoothly for nearly an hour and a half. Snake Eyes and I are in something that can best be described as an armoured bus along with 23 other Joes, so we keep conversation to a minimum. I'm bored to tears, frantic for action, and tired of thinking about what to do with the Commander, or more accurately, tired of thinking about how unfair it is that I'm supposed to be thinking about what to do with the Commander. It's honestly a relief when all hell breaks loose.

I hear a series of explosion ahead of us, each one closer than the last. The driver hears some of them too and veers violently, almost tipping the vehicle, while screaming at us to get out through the emergency exists.

Snake Eyes and I leave those for the rest of the Joes and jump out the nearest window. Our guns are out before we touch the ground, mine solely so he won't lecture me on efficiency again – fact is, I had my hands full of shurikens before I managed to beat myself into using the clumsy noisemaking toys.

The ambush happened right at the front of the convoy, so the troopers have time to see Snake Eyes and I coming as we run towards them, shooting as we go. The way their pulse jump when they see not one but two ninjas is priceless. Hearing no less than ten of them scream variations on "It's Storm Shadow! He's alive!" with a generous amount of curses thrown in, echoing each other, is like sweet music, ESPECIALLY considering that between my snow suit and my guns, they don't actually have any way to know who I am – they're just panicking because someone is running right alongside Snake Eyes, shooting at them with just as much accuracy, and they're rightly assuming the worst.

I grin under my scarf and put on an extra burst of speed, still shooting at the troopers while swerving to avoid their own fire. Between Snake Eyes doing the same thing I am and the Joes and Vipers firing their own weapons, ranging from guns to missile launchers with a few grenades thrown in for fun, not to mention the engines of several vehicles from both sides and the racket of planes and helicopters overhead and finally, a good bit of screaming, the noise level is eye-watering… but I can't stop grinning. Not only does it feel wonderful to finally be killing the right people, this is the first time I'm actually fighting on the same side as my brother since he's trained, and I'm absolutely loving it. Even the nagging question of what to do about the Commander doesn't manage to ruin it for me.

I put my guns away and take out my swords are soon as the troopers are close enough, quickly imitated by my brother. There aren't that many troopers left by then, and between our four blades, the battle is quickly over.

The euphoria I was feeling while we were fighting vanishes abruptly as I suddenly realize that even though we won this battle with minimal casualties and few injuries, the damage is done: the Commander now knows we're coming.

* * *

We engage less than half an hour later, within view of the main entrance to the fortress; a construct which can best be described as a cross between a snow fort and a low to the ground ice sculpture. It would actually be quite pretty if not for the prominence of the Cobra logo – not that I have time for more than a glance.

GI Joe is outnumbered about ten to one on the ground and the air support is busy dealing with Cobra's own air force, so Snake Eyes and myself once again fall back on our firearms as the quickest way to kill, much to my eardrums' displeasure. I'm almost thankful when we find ourselves surrounded closely enough for our blades to become our most efficient weapons again.

From there, my instincts take over within seconds. As usual when it becomes necessary to keep me alive, my body seems to be moving by itself, following strategies that are executed before I'm aware I've thought of them, dodging and blocking anything that comes towards me automatically and following through on openings quicker than the conscious part of me can think of what to do about them. I used to think of this as being on auto-pilot, but the term implies that I'm not in control and, now that I've spent some time desperately trying to get back in control of my mind and body, I can appreciate how inaccurate that is. I may not premeditate any of my actions, but I feel in perfect control and everything I do is exactly what I'd be doing if I did have the time to think about it.

For instance, when I spot a trooper aiming for Gung-Ho, I leave my left-hand sword in the Viper I just impaled with it, fish a shuriken out of my pocket and send it through the trooper's neck before he takes the shot. I recover my sword from the Viper's corpse and I've already moved on to my next target by the time I smile as it occurs to me that I've now at least repaid my debt to Gung-Ho for preventing Snake Eyes from killing me in Switzerland.

I've also automatically adapted to the fact I have allies around whose safety I actually care about: if it weren't the case, I'd deal with the timed bomb that just landed near my feet by kicking it as far away from myself as I can and I wouldn't worry about where it lands. This time however, I sheathe my right sword while I flip the bomb up with my foot, catch it with my newly free hand, throw it high in the air, take out one of the guns my brother loaned me and shoot the it, making it explode harmlessly well above everyone's heads.

The noise almost covers that of the gun going off behind me, but not quite. I duck and simultaneously sweep my sword through the legs of a Viper who was trying to take advantage of the fact I was distracted by the bomb to sneak up on me with a knife, apparently under the impression I can only dodge weapons that make noise. He drops with a yelp of surprise, not quite realizing what just happened and the shock preventing the pain from quite registering. I'm so focused on finishing off as many enemies as I can as quickly as possible that the thought of letting him live long enough to scream in pain only registers as a waste of time I don't intend to suffer, and my sword comes down on his neck, separating yet another part of him from the rest, lethally this time.

The other thing that makes this battle state different than a strict auto-pilot is that I am in fact aware of everything I witness, even though I ignore most of it in favour of reacting more efficiently to every bit of information that translates into a threat or an opportunity. Therefore, I do see the different expressions in each of the troopers I kill: the two that fall now to my latest swipe, their chests opened, both wear the incredulous expression of men who were here for the danger pay and thought themselves invincible… much more satisfying than the cloudy, puzzled look the junkies that make up a sizeable portion of this army get when they suddenly find their miserable lives slipping away.

I also find out why Snake Eyes has yet to show any kind of concern for Scarlett, despite the fact he hasn't even had visual contact with her since we left the Pit – she was good four years ago, but she's downright spectacular now. All the Joes are doing much better than would be expected from non-ninjas, demonstrating that they really are the cream of the crop when it comes to soldiers, but she's miles ahead of the rest of them. If nothing else, she's a testament to both her boyfriend's talent as a teacher and his ability to keep me focused on himself: she and I have been on the same battlefield several times since I've kidnapped her, but I had completely failed to notice she was progressing until now. In my defence, as long as I thought she was an agent of the Order, I couldn't have cared less about her personal progression. Afterward, I would have been hard pressed to notice had she sprouted extra limbs between two battles.

I bite my lips when I realize the implications behind her progress, and my next strike cuts a Crimson Guard in half lengthwise, in an upward motion. It's a deeply satisfying move, but one I would not normally use: not only is it relatively slow, but it also requires a good bit of strength because of all the bones I have to go through even if I slide along the actual spine instead of cutting through it. The fact I went for it this time shows how rotten my mood suddenly is.

My brother has obviously been training Scarlett as intensely as he could for the past four years, and his motivation for doing so is rather obvious: he was afraid I'd go after her again and he's been trying to get her to a level where she'd stand a chance against me if I did.

My mind automatically goes to all the Joes that had no chance at all when they ended up facing me. I see the uniform of a Viper I was about to strike change to green, and although a part of me does realize it's an hallucination, the bigger part of me is back at the United Nations, about to kill another soldier. Suddenly, my opponent is no longer wearing any scarf, goggles or insulated helmet and he starts taking on the faces of the other soldiers who were with me and Chatterbox in the War, both from our first and second tour.

I jerk back in horror and drop my swords. The soldier turns into my brother and his side starts bleeding, following my hitting him while trying to kill him. My eyes widen a bit more still, and the battle around us stops existing. He smiles, seemingly unbothered by his injury, and takes aim. I don't make a move to dodge or knock the gun out of his hand; I was about to kill my brother... I DESERVE to be shot.

It feels like my own heart stops beating when, instead of shooting me, my brother suddenly acquires a hole in his forehead and crumbles, lifeless. I lunge forward towards Chatterbox. I know he's not dead, I remember this. I can't hear his heart, but that's only because I can't hear anything at all right now. I can bring him back to the chopper, he'll be fine.

I feel the hands on my arms and I'm spun around just before I notice that Wilkinson is right next to me.

"LET GO!" I shout over the racket, prying his hands off my arm. "HE'LL BE FINE, I…"

I hear Chatterbox next to me and turn, confused. I don't remember his getting up by himself, I'm sure I'm supposed to carry him. Wilkinson screams at me to snap out of it, calling me Tommy - as usual when he can't be bothered with my family name. I don't know what he wants me to snap out of, and before I can make any sense of what's going on, Chatterbox slaps me across the face, hard enough to hurt right through the padding provided by my scarf and his glove.

Reality comes crashing back and I feel the blood drain from my face as I realize what just happened. I don't have time to reflect on it, however: the battle is still raging. I hear a gun go off to my left and tackle Stalker to the ground while Snake Eyes, who heard the weapon as well, rolls away.

My knife embeds itself in the shooter's left eye just before he collapses from the hole in his heart, courtesy of my brother's gun. I slip back in battle mode and put the incident away from my mind – it's bad enough flashbacks actually can take over in the middle of a fight, I really can't afford to let them slow me down even once they're gone.

I lose track of time again as the battle wears on. The Joes continue to genuinely impress me, and I find myself seriously coveting some of their toys – in particular, I decide that I simply MUST get some explosive javelins for myself. Thankfully, I don't fall for any flashbacks again, and eventually, from being outnumbered, the Joes have control of the situation: the Cobra troops are still fighting, but they're being separated into pockets, and the Joes fighting each of those small groups of survivors are suggesting they surrender. Orders start to come in through some of the radios - including my brother's - to move in the fortress.

I don't need to be asked twice – or even once, I suppose, since the request was not technically addressed to me. I bolt for the entrance, followed closely by Snake Eyes.

* * *

Although most of the Commander's army was outside, there are still some troopers inside, as evidenced by the fact we just had the pleasure of dispatching a twelve men unit, about ten minutes after entering the fortress. The other Joes that followed us in were much slower than we are, and we've long since lost them. By the sounds of it, they took a different turn at some point. I can't pretend I mind – it's not like the two of us need help to deal with a few troopers now and again.

I stop Snake Eyes by grabbing his arm just as he's about to run off again after dislodging his sword from the last trooper.

"Hold on and help me search them; we need to find the unit leader. His ID will say and he'll have a Cobra watch."

Snake Eyes pauses for a moment, snickers at the thought of Cobra giving out watches to unit leaders, and starts searching without bothering to ask why we need to identify the leader.

"Found him," I announce after spotting the gold watch adorned with the logo and confirming by checking the man's ID. "Give me a bag, would you?"

He digs in one of his pockets and hands me a plastic bag, just the right size. I smirk at him.

"Good boy, you DO catch on fast."

I unsheathe my sword and cut off the man's hands and head, stuffing all three items in the bag. Snake Eyes asks how much clearance I figure a random unit leader has.

I shrug. "It varies a lot… we'll see. We'll just have to find more if this one doesn't get us all the way to the Commander."

* * *

The level of clearance of our portable set of prints, DNA and retinas stops to matter after only one secured door: the base goes in lockdown mode at some point between that one and the next, as evidenced by the scan panels on that next door being shut down and by the "lockdown mode" display above it.

Snake Eyes takes out a knife and eyes the keypad lock, very obviously about to stab it. I push his arm down.

"Down, Brother. Let me try the usual passwords before we start hoping that whoever designed those doors never dreamed the lock panels might get damaged by intruders."

He signs to ask whether I really think the Commander would use a password I know. I smirk.

"I'm guessing that up to our encounter with the perimeter guards, I could have walked around here as though I owned the place," I say as I try a first password. It doesn't work. "The Commander was certain that I would be loyal to him until I died, so he would not have been concerned at all that I'd break his passwords. I figured any clearance he may have given me would be gone the second he found out I was alive, since he can do that at the database level with one click, but those passwords are hardwired on the individual doors because they're the backup in case the database goes down – or at least, they were on Cobra Island and in Springfield, so I assume they are here as well. He wouldn't have been able to change them in just a couple of hours and besides, he probably doesn't realize I know his patterns. Just the same, we better hurry; he's not going to just assume the doors are going to stop us. There we go!"

I've been typing away, trying different arrangements of the Commander's usual key words and number combinations, and the door has finally opened. I dash after Snake Eyes through the door, the bag containing the now useless head and hands still attached to my belt – if nothing else, they might still be able to provide a distraction if I throw them at someone.

* * *

Things get a bit repetitive as we get deeper into the fortress – we run into more and more patrols, confirming that we're getting closer to the Commander's hiding place, and at increasingly frequent intervals, I have to try a dozen passwords to get a door to open.

It becomes tedious pretty quick, and the more impatient I get, the more I find myself thinking of what I'll do when we finally find the Commander, assuming we do – he may have managed to flee, in which case he'd run into the Joes that are no doubt stationed at all the exits the X-Ray sweep identified and it's safe to assume they won't let me approach him.

We eventually find his Command Centre, and a still warm coffee - not to mention screens showing various security feeds - reveals he was indeed here recently. He is, however, gone. I resist the urge to throw the cup of coffee at something - or the head in the bag, for that matter - and peel my ears for receding footsteps. My self-control pays off: I hear faint running at 2 o'clock and take off, heading for the door at the other end of the room. Snake Eyes falls behind me, wisely letting my ears guide us.

* * *

We finally almost catch up to him a few minutes later, with not a whole lot of time to spare – he's running towards an exit, hidden by one of Zartan's cloak. If he makes it, he will be able to edge pass the Joes, quite possibly kill a few, and take off on one of the vehicles they used to come over here and guard this particular exit. I would certainly chase him all over the continent if I have to, but I'd much rather end this now.

I glance at Snake Eyes and roll my eyes: he's scanning the hallway, obviously still trying to locate the man despite the clear footsteps. It's funny in an infuriating kind of way; the Hard Master was one of the best the clan has ever had at sensory techniques, including the Ear that Sees, but my brother, the same one who seems to be able to learn anything ELSE at lightning speed, somehow managed to never even properly learn echo location.

I can't explain why I don't just throw a shuriken in the Commander's legs to stop him, or in his heart for that matter, except I'd rather face him before he's actually injured at all. I unhook the bag Snake Eyes gave me from my belt and look at him with a pretend nervous look on my face.

"Your unstable and fragile brother really needs you to hold his hands right now," I plead.

He staggers while running and stares at me. I take the head out and throw the bag that now only contains hands at him. His shoulders sag a bit under the weight of the truly horrible joke as he catches the bag, still looking at me, obviously wondering what I'm up to. Judging by a sharp intake of breath, he guesses about a quarter of a second before I actually throw the severed head right in front of the Commander. I put on an extra burst of speed at the same time.

The Commander yelps and jumps backwards, falling on his backside with a rather pleasing thud. I grab him by his collar, invisible but easily located between his heart and his mouth, and slam him against the wall.

"What's the matter, Commander? You usually like it when I lose my head," I sneer as I rip the cloak generator off his wrist and crush it. He's wearing his cloth mask today, and the sheer terror in his eyes is utterly delicious. Snake Eyes stops to stand next to me, arms crossed and very clearly intent on letting me deal with our prisoner or victim-to-be.

For now, I'm just staring at him. My good mood at finally catching him has evaporated already, replaced by cold fury. The skin around his eyes is turning whiter and whiter by the second, and his heart rate, which was already high from his run, is climbing to sincerely dangerous levels. He takes a deep breath in an obvious effort to steady himself, with very limited success. Remarkably enough, however, his voice is only slightly shaky when he speaks.

"Don't you want to know who hired Zartan?" he asks. "It wasn't me…"

My eyes widen slightly before narrowing again. "I don't care," I growl honestly. "The orders came from you, the arrow came from Zartan."

"But he's the one who gave Zartan the equipment that picked the wrong target!" he hisses desperately.

I bark a laugh. "And if he hadn't, I would have lost my brother instead. I don't CARE, Commander."

Next to me, Snake Eyes uncrosses his arms long enough to sign that he knows anyway. I resist the urge to ask and swallow my curiosity for now, keeping my eyes focused on the Commander's.

I can't just glare at him forever; I need to make the decision my brother requested of me. I've had plenty of time to think about it, but I've refused to reach a decision right up until now. I'd still prefer not to choose, but that's no longer an option: if I don't kill him now, I'll most likely lose my chance; if I do kill him, I won't exactly be able to change my mind afterward.

I've never wanted anything more fervently than I want to end his life right now, in the most painful way possible. I'm aching for it, my heart is hammering, my breathing is shallow from the anticipation, my hands are shaking… I've dreamed of this moment, I've lived for it, I've killed for it. This is the one thing I've desired the most ever since I saw the name "Cobra" associated with those silent helicopters. Killing the man responsible, even before I knew his identity, has been the only thing to matter to me ever since I failed to catch the arrow that killed my uncle.

My fists clench on his collar and my thumbs stretch by themselves, pressing on his throat. He starts gurgling and kicking until I manage to curl my thumbs back on my fists. Next to me, my brother's heart rate spiked briefly, but I can't tell whether it was out of fear that I'd kill the Commander or out of excitement at the idea.

I want this. I want this badly. I want to push my thumbs in his throat until his heart stops, I want to rip every last one of his internal organs out and feed them to him so he'll choke on them, I want to cut him into small pieces, starting with his toes and working my way up… I can think of about fifty different ways to go about killing him painfully, and to be completely honest, I'd settle for a quick death blow if I had to.

I kill my enemies all the time, this wouldn't be any different.

Except of course that it's completely different. The man is not a threat to me right now, I don't need to kill him to ensure my own safety or that of anyone else. It's just the opposite, in fact: it's been established that the whole planet will be safer longer with him alive behind bars than with him dead.

Even though I've been resisting actually making a decision regarding the Commander's faith, I have thought about the situation quite a bit, and as much as I'd love to be able to tell myself that although it's not necessary for my safety, killing the Commander is necessary for my uncles' peace of mind, I know Snake Eyes was right and that it absolutely isn't. This is not about my uncles at all anymore, it is strictly about me.

If I do this, it will be for my own personal satisfaction, and nothing more. The choice comes down to doing something for myself or doing something for everyone else… it's exactly like my brother said: vengeance or honour. I've always valued honour above most everything else, the main exception being my family. On the other hand, my quest for vengeance turned me into a monster, cost me the honour I value so much and that of my family; it needs to stop.

The mere thought hurts, and my fists clench tighter on the Commander's collar. I notice at that point that he's screaming, begging for his life, crying that he's a valuable prisoner, and generally being extremely pathetic. It only makes me want to squeeze the life out of him even more, but I don't.

As painful as it is, I can't escape my own conclusion: vengeance, at this point, only benefits me. It'd only be one more selfish act to my name, one more dishonour, one more instance of my putting my desires above everyone else's needs.

I thought my brother terribly unfair when he made me face this choice, but as I move my fingers behind the Commander's ear and press his sleeping point, causing him to stop whimpering and begging and to go limp, I realize that my being denied vengeance is not unfair at all, quite the contrary. I've spent close to twelve years serving Cobra, killing and helping to kill thousands of people for no reason at all other than the fact I wanted a promised payment for the first eight years, to live in a dream and forget reality the next three, and for things to stay clear and simple for the last one… being denied what I desire is simple justice.

I drop the Commander, letting him crumble on the floor at my feet, and step away. Snake Eyes moves in and picks him up, swinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and squeezes my own shoulder with his free hand.

"You knew I wouldn't kill him, didn't you?" I breathe.

He nods and signs that he trusted me to do the right thing.

"It goes for all of them."

He tilts his head questioningly.

"Zartan, Scrap Iron and Mindbender… it's the same as for him: the only person who'd gain anything from my killing them in retribution would be me, and I most certainly don't deserve such a reward. I've let my desire for vengeance consume me…" I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I pronounce my own sentence. "No more. I've learned one last lesson from the Hard Master today: I will no longer seek revenge."

My voice breaks even as I say it. I know my decision is the right one, I know I cannot allow myself to fall again into the trap that kept me captive for all those years, but it feels like I've torn off my own heart to drag myself out of that trap. It was all for nothing… every crime I've committed, every shameful act, every stain on my family's name. I clench my jaw – it's no good dwelling on it, it's done and it's over. I need to concentrate on the future and on finding my new path.

Snake Eyes gives my shoulder another squeeze and starts walking towards the exit. I follow him, keeping my eyes to the floor in an effort not to see the Commander; having to hear his continued breathing is bad enough.

* * *

We come out of the fortress to find, as expected, a squadron of Joes ready to stop anyone from escaping. They stare at us in shock when we first come out, Snake Eyes with the Commander draped over his shoulder.

Cheers erupt and the Joes throw themselves on Snake Eyes, relieving him of the Commander and clapping him on the back without paying the slightest attention to his signed protests that he didn't actually do much. It's just as well they're ignoring him, considering he's lying through… well, through his fingers, I suppose.

While they're doing that, I hear Beach Head trying to sneak up behind me. I turn around and put out my hands, offering my wrists. I figure the only way I'm not going to be restrained again now that the fight is over is if I fight my way out of here, and the last thing I want right now is to fight soldiers again, especially just for the sake of avoiding the slight discomfort of wrist restraints.

Beach Head jumps just a little bit, startled, and then curses a blue streak while putting the handcuffs on me.

"And don't you go take 'em off, you damned psychic spook," he snaps. "Actually, scratch that. You go right ahead, give me an excuse to hurt you."

"I'm not psychic;" I correct him, smirking, "just not deaf, either. And I won't take them off… consider me terrified. Thousands of Cobras trying to kill me got nothing on one soldier who was obviously ordered not to hurt me."

"You got some mouth on you, don't you? Snake Eyes!" he bellows. "I got a whole lot of other snakes to look after, want to give me a hand with this one?"

Snake Eyes nods, digs into his bag and throws one of the severed hands at Beach Head. I'm too much in shock at the display of tasteless humour by my brother to laugh, until Beach Head catches the thing out of sheer reflex, without realizing what it is, only to jerk away from it in shock, dropping it, with a renewed stream of curses.

I can't quite stop laughing even when he picks the hand back up and slaps me upside the head with it.

"Yeah, real funny!" he growls at Snake Eyes, throwing the hand back towards my brother's head – only for said brother to easily catch it and calmly put it back in the bag. "Now get over here and take over!" Beach Head barks. "Make yourself useful!"

* * *

I've sobered back up by the time I find myself facing Hawk again.

We're in the General's plane, about to take off. I'm still in the handcuffs, my brother is sitting next to me - writing his report on a memo pad - and the other Joes on the plane all have their guns pointed either straight at me or at the Commander. Hawk is staring at me, trying to look stern but not quite managing. The Commander, still asleep, has been tied up very securely and is sitting on the other side of Snake Eyes.

"I'm getting very tired of thinking about you," Hawk starts.

I know this is really no time for jokes, but just like when Snake Eyes threw that hand at Beach Head, I can't help myself and I jump on the opening and on the chance for a cheap laugh. I'm pretty sure Psyche Out would say my surprising eagerness to fool around is simple escapism, and that suits me just fine.

"You can't mean that," I say, making my voice tremble a bit as though I'm in shock. "I'm a ninja! We're endlessly fascinating!"

My brother doesn't quite succeed in stiffening a chuckle, but Hawk is not amused at all.

"I've spent the last four years constantly debating whether to order my men to kill you," he continues, completely ignoring the interruption. "I did give that order several times, but I have also ordered them to take you prisoner instead at least as many times. Just recently, I had to make the decision to try and keep you alive and I've spent most of the last few days trying to decide what to recommend be done with you and the rest of that time thinking about how I'd make sure my recommendations would be followed, because I didn't want to have spent that much time making up my mind just for my superiors to turn me down flat. I've sent my recommendations when we landed here, and I got an answer about an hour ago: my recommendations are accepted, provided certain conditions are met. The first one is already taken care of." At that, he points at the restrained, sleeping Commander.

Snake Eyes, as if right on cue, stops writing and hands him the memo pad.

"Who's building up suspense now?" I grumble. I'm not quite full of myself enough not to realize whatever Hawk recommended and whether it goes through or not will seriously affect me. For one thing, if they decide to execute me, I'll have to escape and be on the run from my own brother again, unless I just allow them to kill me – an option I'm not entirely ruling out either.

Hawk ignores me and continues to read my brother's report. The plane's engines start and we take off while he reads through the few pages twice. He puts it away in his briefcase once he's done and turns back to me.

"Snake Eyes' report on your behaviour today meets the second condition: you've done your best to protect the members of this unit as opposed to focusing only on killing as many of the Cobra troops as you could, and you've spared the Commander's life as requested, instead of Snake Eyes having to restrain you."

"So the first condition was for the Commander to be captured, and the second was for me to be a good boy?" I ask. "I take it your recommendation is not for me to be handed over to a firing squad. What is it, then?"

"Basically? Not to let a ninja go to waste."

My eyes widen and my heart rate picks up. "What?"

"We still need to assess what we can expect from you, however," he continues. "So, talk. What can you offer? What are your intentions from here on out?"

I have to take a deep breath to recompose myself. He sounds like he wants me to serve them as a ninja, somehow. I'd be happy to, but I don't believe it at all: I know I've misunderstood him somehow, and when I answer, it is with the solid assumption that he'll stop me after a couple of sentences and clarify what he actually meant, which will turn out to be much less to my advantage.

"When they first start training, many students are overwhelmed by what they are expected to eventually be able to accomplish," I start, dimly aware that I'm purposely delaying my actual answer with an explanation that is not strictly necessary, just to delay Hawk telling me I will not, in fact, be given the opportunity he's just hinted at. "For most of them, the hardest hurdle to overcome is not pain but the certainty that they will never succeed. I've only had one student, but he was no exception and therefore, I had to deliver the usual lecture we give those who would give up because the goal seems unattainable."

He hasn't stopped me yet and is in fact listening intently. I sigh and keep going, talking faster, suddenly eager to get the whole silly misunderstanding over with.

"In essence, we tell them that a ninja's training is never complete: no one can ever be so perfect that improving further is impossible. We tell them that their duty, as our students, is to do their absolute best even when they think they will never succeed, because doing their best will at least ensure they achieve as much as they possibly can. I intend to follow the same advice now: I know I have no hope to ever fully redeem myself for my actions over the past twelve years, but I will devote the rest of my life to trying my absolute best to do just that. I'm fully aware that I will fail and still die without having restored my honour, but at least I will have lifted the dishonour as much as I possibly can. It's the only acceptable course of action."

He still hasn't stopped me, which is more than a bit surprising. Next to me, Snake Eyes' pulse is a bit fast, as though he's worried about what I've said.

"You say you intend to try your best. What do you mean by that? What would you do if given the opportunity?" Hawk asks.

"I've spent years assisting Cobra, so I will spend the rest of my life opposing them, and any other similar organization."

He nods and actually cracks a smile. "Glad to hear it," he says. "Here's the proposal I have been authorized to extend to you. In recognition for the information you have provided this unit and for your… insistence… to assist in this battle, and in light of your obvious regrets and desire to repay your debt to society, you will be granted temporary amnesty against all currently standing charges against you, in exchange for enrolling with the GI Joe division of the United States Army for at least a five year term. At the end of your engagement, provided your service is satisfactory, you will be granted a full presidential pardon. If you do not accept these terms, you will go to trial."

"I… you're not serious," I stutter.

He chuckles. "Translated into normal English, it means what I said earlier: we're not going to let a ninja go to waste if we can help it. Snake Eyes is too valuable and you've been too much of a pain for us not to try and capitalize on the chance to have both of you on our side. You said you wanted to oppose Cobra and the like? Do it with us."

"You ARE serious."

"Completely."

I swallow. My heart is hammering, and part of me still doesn't quite believe I heard him right. The offer is beyond pleasing, it's exactly what I would have been hoping for if I had allowed myself to hope for anything at all. Being part of GI Joe will not only allow me the best opportunities to continue to fight Cobra and others like them, it will let me do it with my brother by my side. I open my mouth to accept the offer and find I can't even talk. I get out of my seat instead and fall back on rituals: I bow and kneel on one knee, my right fist on my heart. The gesture makes it a done deal in my eyes, allowing me to calm down somewhat and speak again.

"Accepted," I say. "I hereby give you my loyalty and swear to serve you."

I've performed the very same vow countless times: most clients demand it because it strokes their ego to see the ninja they've hired kneel to them and swear loyalty, even if it is only for the night. Before he brainwashed me, the Commander also used to make me do it several times a month, for exactly the same reason. It's the first time in over a decade that I get to make the oath because I want to, and I grin through it.

Hawk raises an eyebrow. "A yes and a salute would have more than sufficed," he chuckles.

I get up, still grinning, and salute as well as I can with my hands still attached together. I lose my smile when I suddenly see myself leaning against a doorway behind the Commander, refusing to salute like the rest of the troops and claiming that I will never play soldier because I believed soldiers had slaughtered my family. I give my head a shake to dismiss the memory and focus back on Hawk.

"You need to realize integrating will not be easy," he says once he has my attention again.

I shrug. "It's only fair that I'd need to gain my team mates' trust."

"You will also continue to see Psyche Out every day until further notice. Stalker told me about your zoning out in the middle of the battle today and you just did it again. I will hear no argument on this."

"Yes, sir," I sigh.

He nods, satisfied, and moves to the radio to communicate the information to the rest of the team, motioning as he goes for someone to take off my handcuffs. Snake Eyes produces a key and unlocks them, tossing them aside before he signs to tell me he's glad to have me on the team. He hesitates a moment, then adds that he realizes how difficult it must have been for me to give up on vengeance and that he's rather worried about the way I said I'd be doing my absolute best. He finishes by asking me whether I'm all right.

The question is certainly more legitimate than when he asked it in the infirmary, but it's also harder to answer. From the cockpit, Hawk's voice announces that he's just recruited me. Over the speaker phone, Beach Head automatically starts screaming his objections to "letting a damn ex-Cobra spook join the team".

I snort and tune out the rest of the conversation, still wondering how to answer my brother's question. I meant every word I said to Hawk: just because I cannot restore my honour is no excuse not to keep trying until the day I die. I have no idea why the thought worries him. As for letting go of vengeance, it did hurt and still does, but I've endured worst and I can already tell that the sting will lessen over time.

I'm tempted to answer that I am fine, but it feels like a gross simplification. I'm very glad to be on the team, because I know I will be able to do a lot more towards redeeming myself with GI Joe than I would alone, and on a more personal level, because I'll enjoy being with my brother again. On the other hand, I know that Beach Head will not be the only one to object to my presence and that it will be an uphill battle to get anyone to trust me or even refrain from snarling at me. I also realize, as maddening as it is, that Hawk is right to insist I continue to see Psyche Out: mentally, I'm not fine. The thought mortifies me; I'm a ninja, I'm not supposed to have emotional issues. Denying their existence, however, will not make them go away.

I'm not quite all right, but I still feel generally good about the future. I'm finally on the right path again… as rocky a path as it is, and even with the knowledge I'll never get off, I'm still happy to be here and I can't wait to get started.

"I'm better than alright," I finally reply. "I'm ready."

**Fin**


End file.
